


Interview with the Greatest Swordsman in the World

by soulmate328



Category: One Piece
Genre: 3D2Y (One Piece), Admiration, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Developing Relationship, During Time-Skip, Earrings Kink, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, Falling In Love, First Time, Getting to Know Each Other, Idiots in Love, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Nakama, Nakamaship, Older Man/Younger Man, Requited Love, Rivalry, Romance, Slow Burn, So does Mihawk, Teacher-Student Relationship, Training, Zoro miss his friends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-16
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:35:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 28,472
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27591449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soulmate328/pseuds/soulmate328
Summary: During their two years together, Zoro and Mihawk discovered that they're more alike than they thought they were.
Relationships: Akagami no Shanks | Red-Haired Shanks & Dracule Mihawk, Dracule Mihawk & Perona, Dracule Mihawk/Roronoa Zoro, Monkey D. Luffy & Roronoa Zoro, Perona & Roronoa Zoro
Comments: 60
Kudos: 176





	1. Zoro

**Author's Note:**

> The title is inspired by Anne Rice's novel Interview with the Vampire.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mihawk's POV

**Zoro**

The second thing Roronoa Zoro demonstrated to Mihawk after he arrived at the Gloom Island, following his improved skills in swordsmanship, was no other than his deplorable sense of direction. For that, Mihawk arranged his bedroom to be on the first floor, the first one in the right corridor after going through the hall. Even then Zoro had managed to get lost, so a few days later Mihawk had to put green signs on the floor to lead him towards the right direction. Another few days later, Mihawk had to write down Zoro's name with a marker on his bedroom door.

Perona and Zoro got closer, due to her having to lead him back to the castle every day after defeating the baboons. The first few weeks of training were more like rehabilitation training, with Mihawk barely interfering beside giving occasional hints about basic movements. At day they went out into the forest; Zoro would fight the humandrills, Mihawk would watch for a while on the side, and Perona would wander everywhere on the island, but was always on time to pick Zoro up at the beach when he finished training. At night Mihawk would read a book by the fire, while the young man and woman sat side by side on the sofa, watching the replay of the Battle of Marineford on a Visual Transponder Snail, paying close attention to their respective captain.

The day Zoro fully recovered from his wounds, Mihawk tested his student's skills himself, using Night instead of anything else. It was the first time they crossed swords after a year since their encounter in East Blue. Zoro's swords were steadier, stronger, and more determined, though there's still a long way to go. The humandrills here had learned to imitate Mihawk's techniques, and Zoro gained experience from his fights with them, but he was still no match for Mihawk.

"Move less, but move with strategy," said Mihawk amidst their clashes, tone casual as if they weren't locked in an intense battle. "The humandrills imitate humans, but they're still wild beasts. Humans do not have their restless fidgeting. Their attentions are less focused, which create weaknesses for you to attack. That does not apply to me. Don't stand on your toes every second, just watch my movements carefully, and dodge or counter at the right timing."

Zoro was too busy managing Mihawk's attacks to respond, but his dark, glittering eyes were proof enough that he was paying attention to his mentor's words, and was eagerly absorbing the knowledge. Zoro's feet immediately became more stable after the instructions, the clattering of their swords more rhythmic and dance-like. Only one sword of his was familiar to Mihawk, the snowy, austere one between Zoro's teeth, which Mihawk recognized as the renowned Wado Ichimonji. The whiteness of her blade formed a fascinating contrast with the darkness of Night, whenever the two masterpieces clash. The other two were more flamboyant and aggressive, fitting to Zoro's fighting style, but neither struck Mihawk as more an embodiment of Zoro's soul as Wado Ichimonji. Beneath his youthful boldness and ambition, there was this simple, pure determination that defined his person, marked out clearly the path he had chosen, all the way to the top of the world of swords where Mihawk stood unfaltering for years.

He took some time admiring the beauty - of both Zoro and Wado, or possibly the sight of the two combined - and ended the fight with a subtle twist of blade that sent the two swords flying from Zoro's hands, the tip of Night kissing his apprentice's tender neck, leaving a trickle of red sliding down the throat. Zoro stared at him with wide eyes, Wado still between his teeth, stunned by the sudden arrival of defeat.

"We're done for the day," said Mihawk as he placed Night on his back. "Get some rest before we head back."

"I recognize that one," Zoro panted, eyes bright with realization. "That's the same move you did back in East Blue, the one that broke my swords. But you changed the angle at the last second, so they just went flying instead of breaking."

"Good," Mihawk nodded in approval. "Next time I do that, remember to apply your strength along my sword, not against her. If your pure strength isn't enough to invalidate the technique, then answer with your own technique."

"Yeah, got it," Zoro supported his hands on his knees, breathing heavily like a fish without water. Mihawk noticed this as the result of his lack of knowledge about Haki; using Haki consumes more energy, but practicing its usage is also practicing the proper use of strength. He would have to learn it soon, otherwise many lessons couldn't push forward.

Zoro went to retrieve his swords, but when he reached for the hilt of his black blade, his fingers twitched and a pained hiss erupted from his mouth. Mihawk approached him, taking hold of his hands.

"Your fingers are a bit dislocated," he said after a little inspection. "The consequece of not using the technique I just told you."

Without forewarning, he snapped those fingers back into the right position. Zoro barely suppressed a gasp, flashing Mihawk a glare of indignation. "I can't just let them go so easily. They're the extension of my arms."

Mihawk paused. The words brought back memories, of red hair and careless laughs and a dangling sleeve, of disappointment that lasted for years. "You're right," he said quietly. "Better make sure you keep them, sword and arm."

Zoro noticed Mihawk's subtle change of tone, but didn't pay much attention because of his exhaution. He sat down in the ruins, reached for the water bottle on his hip with still trembling fingers, swallowing eagerly to quench the burn in his throat.

"I watched the whole battle," said Zoro, looking up at his composed mentor. "You were quite relentless with Luffy."

"I was doing my job."

"I know. The point is, he's still alive, _somehow_ ," Zoro eyed him with interest. "If you were truly doing your job, being a proper ally of the Marine, I don't see how he could've survived from your attacks. I saw you fight, and I don't think you were really doing your best. Yes, people protected Luffy, but they were far from enough to be your obstacle, I know it. Why did you hold back?"

That, was in fact, a very incisive and private question. How should he explain? contemplated Mihawk. He didn't want to start from the beginning, about how he met a red-haired pirate in his youth, starting a lifelong journey of rivalry and friendship, and Straw-Hat was the one that pirate had chosen as the heir of his spirit, and no matter how many times Mihawk said 'do not hate me, Red-Hair' in his heart, he wouldn't be able to actually kill the Strawhat captain. Talking so much would bring trouble, unnecessary entanglements. The deal was simple - he plays the teacher, Zoro plays the student - and should remain so in every way. After all, a day would come that one of them would die at the other's sword.

So he replied, "I have my own reasons."

Zoro opened his mouth and closed it, noting Mihawk's unwillingness to answer.

They headed for the castle afterwards, had a simple but nutritious supper, and went idly about their own businesses. The sky that night was uncommonly clear, so Mihawk took a bottle of wine to the garden, sat in a chair on the grass, enjoying the coolness of breeze, the ruffling of leaves and the fragrance of flowers. It was rare for the damp Gloom Island to have such a pleasant night.

His apprentice joined him a few minutes later, leaning on the door frame. "She just left for Thriller Bark. Should be back in a few days," said Zoro. "I think she's gonna look for the body of her favorite pet."

Mihawk reached out with his Haki, and indeed found the girl's ghost flying away from the island. "I see," Mihawk nodded.

Zoro looked around the garden, "You've taken good care of this place."

"It has been my home for some years by now."

"Do you really have to pick a place like this? Seriously, a ruined kingdom on a gloomy island? I know you're on your own, but I'm pretty sure there're better places for seclusion than this."

"I do not wish to be too luxurious," Mihawk poured himself another glass of wine. "Comfort blunts the edge of the sword."

"Mmmh, make sense."

The young swordsman lingered, stealing occasional glances towards his mentor. Mihawk sighed; not that he didn't prefer company, but that the reclusive life he had been living wasn't really beneficial to his social skills. He gestured to his hesitant apprentice, "Just grab a chair over there if you like."

Zoro almost immediately obeyed, dragging a lounge beside Mihawk and settling himself down, legs dangling lazily on the side. Zoro's hair was still damp from his shower, the fragrance of soap blooming from his skin, mixed with his post-shower perspiration, a vigorous and clean scent of youth that was quite novel to Mihawk's nose. The pleasantry of the night was adding on Zoro's fatigue, and Mihawk could see his eyelids a little heavier than usual, his normal sharp, demonic gaze softening into a haze of relaxation.

"You can... ask her to leave, you know," Zoro said hesitantly. "She doesn't really bother me, but I don't know why you're letting her stay, if she, well, damages your peace. I mean, you chose this place because there's no one else here, right? And there's really no need to worry about her; she's a pirate, and not a particularly weak one."

Again, his apprentice's question drove home. Despite his multiple displays of annoyance, he wasn't really resisting the girl's presence. He wouldn't stop her from leaving, but there was no urge of kicking her out either.

"It's her choice to stay or leave, as long as she doesn't cause me any trouble."

Mihawk could notice Zoro's eyes secretly on him, but he didn't bother to show. "So you don't actually hate people around you."

"No."

Somehow, he admitted the fact a little grumpliy, as if something private was dug out of him. He felt like a cloistered vampire suddenly receiving guests, but unable to sink his teeth into their necks so he just kept them as pets, feeding them and training them to defend themselves. He refused to identify his reactions as 'shy.'

"I guess that's good," Zoro's voice was tinged with lightness. "I don't think I'm going elsewhere in these two years. I'll be a good guest, I promise. Just throw whatever torment you have in mind at me in those classes, I'm all for it."

"Do you imagine me as some kind of mythical monster who tortures people at a whim?" he asked, finding it both funny and annoying.

"Well, you're certainly not... kind, are you? I mean, you chased a whole pirate crew from Grand Line to East Blue just because you were _bored_."

There's really nothing he could explain about that. He was bored, _very_ bored. He was traveling alone on the sea, drifting from island to island but found no worthy opponent. Nobody had talked to him for months, and when the solitude was becoming too much for his liking, the first group of people he met were those petty pirates that couldn't even start to compare with Red...

"I wasn't bored," said Mihawk. "I was searching, but what I found failed to reach my expectations."

But then there was him, Roronoa Zoro, appearing out of nowhere, provoking his interest, gaining his respect, adding a new expectation in his life, a young, vigorous one. And he appeared again on his island in the same manner, but the outcome was so different than the last one. His expectation stayed at his side, like a sapling planting its roots into hard dry soil, free for Mihawk to cultivate at his will.

He suddenly realized that when he was contemplating, Zoro's breathing had become even and smooth. A smile crept up the corner of his mouth as he drained his wine glass and stood, covering the young swordsman's sleeping form with his coat.

He had a feeling that his expectations wouldn't be failed this time.


	2. Nami

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Nami**

The castle sat atop the cliff at the top of a snowy moutain, like a crown on the head of an evil god. Zoro needed to look very hard to make out the general shape of the fortress, all black granite walls and slender towers, aggressive and cruel as sharpened spears. "Looks like those castles that come right out of a scary bedtime story," he murmured to himself.

It wasn't the same castle Mihawk lived in, of course. This one was located pretty far from the royal palace that was Mihawk's home; it was the seat of the most powerful vassal lord of the former king. According to Mihawk, the castle was built on the height as a challenge to the authority of the king, since the lord's pride swelled with his power and fortune. Eventually the lord rebelled, and this kingdom was utterly ruined by years of civil war.

They traveled for weeks to get there, passing through moors, ruins, forests and mountains, and the moment they arrived at the now abandoned castle, Mihawk told him to find his own way back to the castle with the Color of Observation. Before Zoro could comprehend his words, Mihawk threw him off the cliff and sent him plunging through the air into the lake at the foot of the mountain.

He survived the damn plunge by thrusting his swords into the rocks during the fall, slowing down the speed. But he ended up drenched anyway, which was a thousand times worse on an island like this. Zoro had to beat his own chest and claw at that enormous scar to prevent himself from screaming all kinds of curses at the castle above; then he took a deep breath, made a fire to dry his clothes, and set out on his way. He did say 'throw whatever torment you have in mind at me in those classes, I'm all for it.' The combatant of the Strawhat pirates wasn't giving up under any circumstances.

Without the terrifying presence of Mihawk, the creatures lurking near the path came pouring out of their lairs like waves. Only then did Zoro realize the reason why Mihawk gave him those history lessons about the civil war of this country on their way here. Apparently, the soldiers of that vassal lord wore special suits and weapons fit for stealth and raids, even allowed them to glide in the air for a short distance. Perfect ambushers they were, especially at night, since their suits were usually black. The humandrills that lived in these mountains took those suits and weapons from the dead soldiers' bodies for themselves, and imitated their practices in battle, which made them far more dangerous than the ones that lived in the forest near Mihawk's place.

The dampness of the air adhered stickily to Zoro's skin, making it hard for him to sense the things around him; plus it felt like a watery hell. When the humandrills here attacked at night, it was like seeing a human-sized dark bat throwing itself towards him, a horrifying sight even to Zoro. He could barely get any sleep in the first few days lost in the woods (of course); it wasn't that the beasts were active all the time, and waking up from vigilance didn't really cause him trouble, but there was huge difference between sensing danger coming from a distance and startling awake with the beast already pressing a blade to his throat. Like the rebellious lord's soldiers before them, these humandrills were perfect ambushers, monsters of the night that ripped apart throats without any sound.

Nights on Gloom Island were usually moonless, starless, no light to be found except for the eyes of beasts in the dark. There was wind, fortunately, something that made a pirate feel at home no matter how harsh it was. The wind reminded him of Nami, the brightness of her eyes as she took in every change of climate with her body, her confident commands shouted between lightnings and roaring waves. Most members of the Strawhat Pirates had lost one or two of their battles, but Nami had never lost hers, and that was why all of them were still alive instead of becoming food for all the covetous Sea Kings in Grand Line.

The thought of Nami didn't exactly soothe Zoro, but it did draw some knowledge about navigation out of his head, if any. He recalled fragments of Nami's little lectures whenever they set foot on a new island, about looking at the moss on tree trunks and other useful stuff. He had never really paid attention to these things before, but with Nami's absense, he simply had to.

He wasn't sure how long it took him to finally get rid of the forest. Endless rocks and snow lay ahead, but the road was clearer and greatly reduced his times of getting lost. But the mountain was in no way less dangerous. The steepness of cliffs were perfect for the humandrills to hide, and because the road was carved into the side of the mountain, every attack meant a potential fall.

And then there was _that_ , the chief of the humandrill clan in this area.

It was a gigantic beast wearing the tatters of a noble lord's dark-and-crimson robe, with steel-forged claws as weapons and sharpened teeth, blood dripping from the fangs. It moved like a shadow, melting into the night whenever it jumped between rocks wrapped in the special black cloak. Zoro realized that the outfit must be taken from the corpse of some high-ranking commander of the rebellious lord's army, or possibly even the lord himself, considering that it was so luxurious and so much sueprior than usual suits.

Zoro had to cheese the fight, though reluctantly. He couldn't see the humandrill chief in the dark, he could barely move with the path so narrow, and he couldn't sense the beast's movements no matter how alert he was. So he put all his strength into one slash of Shusui, nearly slicing off a corner of the mountain, and scared the beast away. The victory wasn't satisfying at all, and he had a feeling that this wasn't what Mihawk was expecting.

The feeling was proven right soon after. He eventually reached the castle one night, climbing all the way to the top of the tower where his mentor solemnly waited, black blade on his back. No words were exchanged; Mihawk drew his sword and charged, immediately locking them into a fight. Zoro only had the time to draw Wado Ichimonji, the rest two swords hanging uselessly on his hip. The crescent moon hung low in the sky, its silvery light reflecting on Night's smooth blade, but in Zoro's eyes, all he could see was a bunch of tangled white strings circling him. Mihawk moved around so fast that the trails of his sword looked almost connected.

Zoro was on his knees in less than ten minutes, Night hovering above his head. "Unsuccessful," Mihawk intoned coldly. The tip of his blade hooked beneath Zoro's collar, and threw the young swordsman off the cliff, again.

It didn't take much time for Zoro to realize that he was too focused on not getting lost that he forgot completely about the Haki training. He decided that if Mihawk was going to throw him off every time, he would just stay below and fight the humandrills until he got a grip on the Color of Observation thing.

He allowed himself to be lost, wandering in the forest, focusing on the enemies around him. Sensing danger was any warrior's basic instinct, but Haki was on a totally different level. _The Color of Observation is controlling the instinct and turning it into actual skill_ , said Mihawk, _you do not sense your enemies, you discover them._

As he fought back endless ambushes of the humandrills, honing his vigilance, trying to make sense of Mihawk's words, Nami appeared more and more often in his mind. Mihawk's description of Haki reminded him of the Log Pose around Nami's wrist, the compass that loyally pointed towards their destination in the chaotic Grand Line. Following this chain of logic, he sat down on a glade one night and closed his eyes in meditation, conjuring up an imaginary Log Pose, willing it to point out the directions of his enemies.

He sat there for hours, the feeling coming and going, unable to solidy into real Haki. Occasionally he sensed a humandrill's attack, but he either heard the sound or felt the air, not really implementing the Color of Observation. Sitting idly irritated him, and when his patience was nearly spent, the imaginary Log Pose suddenly pointed firmly at one direction, and something akin to a white spot of light appeared in his dark sight behind closed eyelids, floating around him like a firefly.

Familiarity struck him as Zoro's eyes snapped open. The thing he just felt wasn't really in sight, but after a few minutes it emerged from the dense woods, circling him in the dim light of dawn. It was one of Perona's ghosts.

Zoro stood, blinking incredulously at the hollow. It returned into the forest after spotting him, probably going back to its master, but Zoro could still see it in a strange way, the compass in his mind following its trail with the pointy end. A string of jubilant laughter bursted out of Zoro's mouth, and he was barely stopping when Perona found him a little later.

"Okay... " the ghost princess gaped at Zoro in his hysteria of success. "I do hope you're not bitten by some poisoned mosquito in those forests. I'm not sure if there are any, but you're acting like you're having seizure."

"I thought... you said you were staying," Zoro said while catching his breath, the corners of his mouth still uncontrollably lifted. The words came out a little clumsily; he hadn't spoke to a human being for some time.

"Yeah, I was exhausted from the trip." Flying all the way to Thriller Bark was still too much for her, so she had to take a boat and sail through the Florian Triangle and back, which was quite a journey. "But, well... living in a castle alone is boring. Very boring," Perona sat down on a rock and started taking out her lunch from the backpack. "Honestly, I'm starting to wonder how Hawk-Eyes lived by himself all those years."

"How did you get here?"

"There's a map of the whole island in the castle, and I took the waterways. Not everyone's so bad with directions like you, dumb boy."

"Quit that. And I'm not having seizure; I just passed a test, well, sort of, half-way through, I guess."

"Aha. So you're here because Hawk-Eye kicked you out?" Perona smirked.

"He didn't kick me out," Zoro said between his teeth. "I'm training."

"If you say so. Anyway, I'm heading for the castle. I'll just leave you here then, if you're training."

"Suit yourself."

Huffing through her nose, Perona started to walk away from Zoro. But after a few steps, she took a deep breath and turned around, her cheeks blushing with irritation.

"Fine! Take this."

She threw something into Zoro's hand. It was a working compass, an especially well-made one.

"I guess this will save you time," Perona shrugged, seemingly nonchalant. "I don't need it anyway, my ghosts can do the scouting for me. See you on top. Just, remember the castle is in the north, okay? North."

Zoro looked at the compass, and wondered where the Strawhat navigator was.

Using the Color of Observation was like opening a mind's eye, seeing through the facade of the world and gazing into the souls of all creatures. Well, that was an exaggeration, but he felt like a hawk after he learned how to the use the Haki, staring down from the sky and choosing his prey at will. No humandrill in the forest was his opponent, now that ambushes no longer worked on him. When he managed to repel the strongest of them several times, some of them even started avoiding him. So this is how Mihawk struck that fear into their hearts, thought Zoro, not by killing them, but by proving his invulnerability.

With the compass's help he got out of the forest (relatively) quickly, and again on the narrow path of the mountain he faced the humandrill chief. This time he was able to tell the beast's location, so he at least put up a fight. He practiced his reaction speed, the white spot in his inner vision easier to follow as he transformed that intuition-like prototype Haki into true Color of Observation. Eventually, he managed to throw the beast off the cliff with a counter attack, but he knew it was far from dead. When the battle was over, he was covered in little cuts left by the humandrill's steel claws. He'd be in real trouble if they're poisoned.

Zoro arrived at the castle gate with more confidence than the last time. When he was crossing the yard, a window opened, and Perona peaked out from within. "Hey! Where're you going?"

"The top."

"What? But you're just here!" she clearly knew who and what awaited him there. "He said he's gonna throw you off again and again as long as he's unsatisfied with you!"

"I know."

" _So?_ Do you think you can satisfy him this time?"

Zoro frowned, deeply. The answer was a clear no, even though he knew he had improved. "What's the matter? This is training, it's supposed to be like this."

"At least take care of your wounds first. And wash yourself. And get some sleep tonight, he's not in a haste, at least it doesn't seem like it. And I'll make... spare you some hot soup of mine."

"I've no time to waste. Not even one night." And to be honest, he was quite eager to see that tall figure and the black blade again, to see what Mihawk would look like in his eyes this time, whether the greatest swordsman in the world was still so far away. Not that he believed that the distance between them had shortened overnight, but testing improved skills was always exciting.

"You are really into this, aren't you?" Perona grumbled. "Whatever. It's none of my concern, anyway."

Despite their unhappy end of conversation, Zoro did end up resting that night. When he returned from the cellar for a bottle of wine - that later Perona took from him with a glare, mumbling about he must be insane to drink after taking damage - he caught a glimpse of his mentor strolling in the gallery above, admiring what's left of the paintings hanging on the walls. Mihawk's white shirt seemed to be glowing in the dimness of the castle. For a moment Zoro was tempted to join him, to talk to him and get to know more about this man that he had sought for his entire life. He decided against it, however; it felt wrong to enjoy leisure with Mihawk when his lesson wasn't complete, when he hadn't reached his mentor's expectations. He would do it after mastering the Haki; the opportunity should be _won_.

Their second duel started at dawn, the morning sun briefly penetrating through the heavy clouds, chasing away some of the dampness. Unlike the last time, Mihawk didn't draw his sword immediately, but took a moment to measure his apprentice with that penetrative gaze. "How much can you see?" he asked. "What does it look like to you?"

"A compass," replied Zoro. "A Log Pose. It points out directions for me, and then I can see what it's wanting me to see."

"So you can sense their presence now. Not enough, but you're on the right path." Mihawk's fingers closed around Night's ornament hilt. "Brace yourself."

The fight lasted longer this time. Mihawk's sword was no longer leaving connected trails in his eyes; his movements were visible now, though still blurry, but Zoro could follow him instead of feeling his presence all over the place. Even when he could see it was hard to fight Mihawk, because his body wasn't always quick enough to obey the commands of his brain. Besides, it was because of the blur that he was still failing to predict his exact moves; he knew in which direction the attack was coming from, but he couldn't identify what that attack was, a sideswipe, a thrust, or a downward strike. When Zoro lost that fight, it was due to mistaking a slash aiming at the neck as a slash aiming at the wrists.

"One more time," Mihawk commanded as he stood victorious over his apprentice.

"Got it," Zoro panted before he went flying in mid-air.

The one more time limit wasn't really about consequences of failing, even if that statement sounds like Mihawk would kick him out of this island if Zoro fail him again. It was about pressure, understanding, need; he said "one more time" because he knew well that Zoro only needed one more time.

Reaching the final level wasn't as easy as he thought. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't conjure up the clear images of his enemies with his Haki, only general outlines of a ghost-like entity covered in white light. It was like a cub having troubles opening its eyes for the first time in life. He needed something, an inspiration, an anchor like the Log Pose in his inner vision, so that he could have a solid point to start from.

He reached for the compass in his pocket, and discovered that it wasn't there. He left it in the castle. Frustration welled up in his chest as Zoro lay down on the bushes with an anxious sigh, uncaring of the nighttime dew wetting his clothes. How could he forget something like this? How could he - they - lose the navigator? They fought a whole band of Fish-Men for her, and Luffy went down on his knees in the snow for her. He remembered all of Nami's unfinished maps in the rotating library on Sunny, so beautifully drawn that everyone that visited the library took some time to admire them, the magnificent coloring and details, the mere names of those islands bringing memories. What had become of their ship, and those maps?

_Maps_. Zoro got up in an instant, enlightened. How different is Haki from cartography? Measuring the distance, drawing the shapes, recording every detail of the enemy's body. It's all about recording the details, predicting the changes, and Nami had been doing that all this time.

Excited by this realization, Zoro picked up a random branch and tried to draw one of Mihawk's stances in their last battle on the ground. He ended up drawing a cartoonish match man, thanks to his zero knowledge about drawing, but that didn't upset him at that moment.

Returning to the castle without the compass was surprisingly less difficult than the first time - probably because he already had one in his heart, namely his newly trained Haki. The imaginary Log Pose pointed strictly towards the fortress on the cliff, and in his mind he drew the outlines of Mihawk somewhere inside it, a silent yet powerful existence that couldn't be ignored in any way. Zoro wondered how he didn't see Mihawk coming from miles away back in East Blue, when the great swordsman was active instead of idle.

Reaching the mountain path for the third time, he walked slowly and steadily, not seeking out his impending enemy deliberately. When the night arrived, and the beast charged at him from a subtle direction like a ghost or demon, he calmly performed an iai, Wado Ichimonji flashing out of her sheath like a stream of water, hitting the humandill's claws at the right spot and with the right strenth to send it flying. He continued on his path, unbothered by the invisible - only for the eyes - enemy's occasional ambushes, until one day the beast was enraged by his attitude and charged without any skill, and got its mantle torn by Sandai Kitetsu and its claws shattered by Shusui's powerful strike. It never appeared in front of Zoro again.

He wasted no time resting when he saw the castle, climbing all the way up to the top where the final exam awaited. All three of his swords were drawn as he confronted Mihawk, who took his time revealing the dark blade this time, with the full moon as his setting. Zoro had a feeling that it wouldn't take long; the attacks would be few, and they would come quickly.

And he was right. There was only one strike with Night, much like their duel back in East Blue. Mihawk's black cloack flapped behind him as he charged, like gigantic bat, but far more elegant and bestially beautiful. In a split second Zoro had to complete the whole process, the navigation, the mapping, just like Nami had always done. His body quickly reacted to his judgement, responding Mihawk's attack. His head ached for issuing such a burdensome command to his body, and his body burned for having to enforce such a command.

Time itself seemed to slowed down when their swords clashed, every detail as clear as Nami's drawing and handwriting, as everything else faded into whiteness with only Night as dark as ink, contrary to Zoro's normal inner map of black world and white spots. When it was over, for a moment he could barely remember anything, only the sight of his three swords trapping Night in between branding into his eyes.

"Good," was the only thing Mihawk said after they simultaneously withdrew, and that was enough.

Zoro took a deep breath, barely supporting himself up with his still shivering feet. "Is this the end? This is all the Color of Observation can do?"

"For most, yes. But anything can be promoted to a different level if the user is strong enough. I've led you into the realm; the rest you must explore on your own."

Mihawk was standing on the edge, and now that the intense training was over, the mischievous thought of avenging his own fall rose to the surface of Zoro's head. He gave up the plan eventually, knowing that he could never catch Mihawk off guard, not to mention throw him off the cliff with such an elegant swing of sword.

"So," unexpectedly, Mihawk spoke again. "What do you want for reward?"

Zoro blinked. "Re... reward?"

"Yes, Roronoa. Isn't it what a teacher should do? Reward the student that reached his expectations?"

"Well, yeah, but... just forget about it, I'm not a kid. I didn't do it for shiny stickers."

"Then tell me what _did_ you do it for. Accept it, Roronoa. Perhaps you're not the type, but reciprocation is important. Give me something and I'll give you something, it's only natural. You're a pirate, of course, but since your pirate crew aren't famous for pillaging, I assume the logic works on you as well."

He immediately remembered the last time he was here, that glimpse of Mihawk in the gallery and the little oath he swore in his heart to win it and stuff. But what exactly did he want though? Zoro was suddenly in a panic, his head all messed up on the inside. Let me walk with you for a bit? Tell me something about this place? Neither sounded right. He had wanted this so much, but now that he wasn't in training-maniac mode anymore, he couldn't even phrase that urge properly.

"...A drink? Tonight?" he said hesistantly, the response coming out of nowhere, at least not from his own thinking. From his instinct, perhaps, the most primordial one that thirsts for good alcohol. "Together?"

Mihawk raised a brow, those hawk eyes fixed on him suspiciously. Zoro was so embarrassed that he wanted to throw himself off the cliff again, willingly this time.

"Alright. If it is what you wish," consented Mihawk, his tone subtle.

"It is. I guess."

The whole thing was as awkward as he thought, but it was all worth it in the end.


	3. Usopp

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Usopp**

Zoro wasn't exactly a drunkard - despite his love for alcohol, he'd always keep his mind clear to wield his sword with steady hands - but it didn't mean quitting all of a sudden had no consequences. He surely wasn't expecting this before diving into the training of the Armament Haki; namely, a short period of abstinence reaction.

Unlike the last time, Mihawk paid very close attention to Zoro's situation, and helped him overcome the difficulties of being cut off from alcohol. His mentor, no less fond of wine than Zoro, stopped drinking as well, so that Zoro wouldn't be distracted by any presence of alcohol. Mihawk also sparred with Zoro every day to help him concentrate and ease his anxiety. He was as patient as ever, even when Zoro himself became irritated that the training was delayed because of his physical conditions.

"The training has already begun," said Mihawk, almost assuring or even soothing. "Learning the Color of Arms is learning how to fully control your body. You must tame it, thoroughly. Never let yourself betray you or fail you."

"But it's not impossible," retorted Zoro. "To remain focused even when a person's really frustrated or troubled."

"Whoever you got that impression from, you better rethink if that person is actually frustrated or troubled."

Of course he is, thought Zoro. Usopp is smart, but he is not so cunning as to fake his fear. Despite all his tears, screams and strange diseases, there was always this split second of total calmness the moment he aimed and shot, something that Zoro had been secretly noticing and amazed by. Now that he was in this state of restlessness, he started to think about how Usopp did it, letting fear and anxiety coexist with pure concentration. Was it only Usopp's talent in sniping, or was it some skill of heart Zoro could learn as well?

When he told Mihawk about this one day on their way back to the castle, Mihawk stroke his chin, piqued by Zoro's description of the Sniper King - he was careful enough not to use Usopp's real name. Better not bring trouble to the already troubled, even though he doubt that Mihawk would tell anyone about his.

"Sniping. That is an interesting concept you just brought up. As you just said, it's all about concentration, focusing on just one point despite everything," Mihawk raised a hand, his Haki rising along his veins to darken his skin, and it grew so thick that it twirled around the tip of his fingers like black liquid fire. "With the help of the Color of Armament, one can even touch the transformed body of a Logia Devil Fruit user. How do you think it works?"

Zoro thought for a moment. "There has to be some kind of physical form that still exist, even when the users turn into all sorts of things. And using Haki can probably enable us to touch that physical form, hidden somewhere beneath their tricks."

"Exactly. Think of their transformation as a state of unstableness, just like this reaction you're experiencing right now. But the transformation is incomplete, never complete; if they turn completely into the natural element, they wouldn't be able to turn back into human form. There is still some stableness beneath the unstableness, and the Color of Armament is able to pinpoint it, snipe it. Your friend was doing the same thing, I presume, even if he wasn't using Haki. If he truly was in total anxiety, he'd be mad instead of just frustrated. There's still determination inside him, and he had to ignore all his inner turmoil, locate it and grab it, pull it out to the surface even just for a moment."

This, of course, Zoro already knew, but Mihawk explained it from a totally different perspective that he was utterly fascinated. "So it isn't about learning how to coexist..."

"I see you get my point. You do not need to learn how to coexist with abnormality; you've been doing it all the time. There is no such thing as perfect state in the first place. But even if you feel that you're in the worst shape ever, the good shape is still there, you just need to find it."

"And the Color of Armament is the good shape?"

"Do you snipe something because of its quality, and you snipe everything that meet the standards? No, you snipe it because it is what you want to take down. Technically speaking, the Haki is the good shape; it's like your senses or your body parts, you wouldn't call them bad. But the point is, it is what you want to discover within you, just like your friend and his courage."

I want to become a brave warrior of the sea. Zoro had always respected everyone on the ship, and knew their dreams only sounded childish, but only then did he understand a little more about Usopp's ideal, after Mihawk enlightened him, once again.

Mihawk fought him with Night as ever, but using the blunt side. Because Zoro had to exhaust himself at day to get some sleep at night, he implemented his full strength in every blow, so Mihawk deliberately avoided clashing with Zoro's swords with Night's blade. This was of course more than a little humiliating, but Zoro could only grudgingly accept. Night was a sword on a different level than his, and even if various techniques can prevent blades from damaging, the possibility of having his swords sliced in pieces still existed. After all, it was Mihawk he was facing; even the most careless slip might just render him weaponless for the next two years. And now there was more than one reason for Zoro to learn the Haki. He had to forge his black blade as soon as possible, to spare himself the shame of his future rival fighting him with a blunt edge like playing sword fight games with a little boy.

The awakening wasn't hard for him at all; once aware of the Haki's existence, and under Mihawk's ceaseless strikes, learning in battle was nothing new for Zoro. His Haki was still invisible, not yet strong enough to be imbued on his swords. The training was progressing steadily when Zoro noticed a subtle change in the way Mihawk fought.

"You're doing it a bit early. What's the matter?" He asked Mihawk one day, during their lunch in the woods.

The words may sound strange and ambiguous, but he knew Mihawk understood. After Zoro started to arm his body and swords with Haki in a fight (he couldn't yet concentrate all his Haki on the swords), Mihawk would brace himself a moment before Zoro's blades clashed with his. This was unnatural, because Mihawk always made his move at the perfect timing; it was as if he was expecting his opponent to touch him even when they... haven't touched yet.

"Ah. I see you discovered my old habit," Mihawk put down his food and gazed into the fire, and as weird as it may sound, it seemed to Zoro that Mihawk was almost avoiding eye contact. "You see, there is this old rival of mine. A fellow swordsman, but he isn't entirely focused on this one field. His Haki is very poweful, so powerful that sometimes it spewed all over the place like conflagration. I often have to... had to deal with it before the sword fight began."

" _Had_ to? He..."

"He's alive. But we don't fight anymore. Haven't fought for years. Come to think of it, he should be able to control his Haki properly by now."

Mihawk's voice was uncommonly forlorn. To call it sadness was a bit inappropriate; more like disappointment, some kind of strange self-condemned loneliness and boredom. It reminded Zoro of that time when Usopp withdrew from the crew, when he unswervingly stopped everyone from trying to take him back before Usopp officially regrets his decision. It wasn't easy for Zoro either, but he would do it all over again if he needed to. Part of him knew that Usopp wasn't that stubborn, but part of him was ready to shoulder this for the rest of his life. It seemed that Mihawk had to face the latter, maybe even unwillingly.

"Spewed all over the place like conflagration?" Zoro took a sip of his tea, changing the topic. "If that's doable, what's the use of real swords?"

"Sword is only a choice of weapon. It's a matter of personal preference, that's all," Mihawk stood. "But this does give me some inspirations about new methods of training. Come."

The new method of training is forcing Zoro to hit him with Haki from a distance, without clashing swords with him. It was even more exhausting than before, as he relentlessly tried to inhance and concentrate his Haki on his sword. Mihawk's description of that old rival of his left Zoro with the image of fire coursing through his veins, so he was left not only sore but also burning after every day of training.

But it made sense, somehow. If it was about sniping, then ammunition must be included, and heat is generated with every shot, right? Perhaps this hotness was what those canons on Sunny felt like under Usopp's palm, when he manipulated them without any instructions as if the skill was there inside him from the beginning.

Zoro kept thinking about that old rival of Mihawk when they sparred every day, even though he knew it was some sort of scar for Mihawk. What would that man be? What kind of person could be remembered in such a way by Dracule Mihawk? He must be wild and carefree, judging from the fact that he let his power spread like wildfire. Probably a pirate, Zoro's instinct told him. But he must have enough wisdom and honor to earn Mihawk's respect as well.

He must be just like Luffy.

The day this idea came to him was the day he managed to fully concentrate his Haki on his swords. It was as if this realization had drew him and Mihawk closer, in a way that Zoro, or perhaps neither of them had noticed.

The only step left was the imbuement, the technique that Mihawk told him from the start that could turn any sword into a black blade. The only thing that stood between Zoro and his sweet, sweet sake.

But Zoro had already managed to get over his abstinence reaction, and even Perona's occasional mischief of drinking right in front of his eyes didn't bother him anymore. He still thought about it with longing, but it wasn't making him anxious or frustrated anymore.

"But isn't that inefficient?" Perona asked him one day. "I mean, you're banned from drinking _because_ it makes you frustrated, right? It's supposed to push you or encourage you or something, but now it's no use."

Zoro folded his hands under his head, stretching himself on his seat. They were sitting in the garden at the top of the castle, enjoying some afternoon tea while waiting for Mihawk to come home from his weekly patrol - he did that to refresh the nearby beasts' fear for him, so that they would be kept away from the castle. It was autumn, Zoro's favorite season, and the forest below was colored gold and red. With his Observation Haki he could hear and picture Mihawk running in those woods like a black gust of wind, his feet unhindered by the unevenness of the ground, his blade slicing any leaf that approached his body into a hundred pieces along the intricate veins. Occassionally his hawk eyes were drawn to ripened berries hanging heavily on a branch, and his pale slender fingers would dart out like white arrows to snatch them from their stems, pearly teeth crunching down and staining his lips with crimson and purple juice. Zoro found himself drawn to the scene like a kid reading a wild animal encyclopedia - Mihawk's bestial elegance never failed to fascinate him.

"Hey, seaweed head," Perona snapped her fingers beside his ears. "Are you listening?"

"Yes, yes, don't do that," he waved her hand away. "The drinking thing? I thought so too at first, that he did this to push me. But come to think of it, I don't really need that to encourage me in the first place, and I don't think he doesn't know this. Abstinence's just part of the training, controlling the body and stuff."

"Then why didn't he tell you at the beginning? What's the point of lying?"

"He didn't lie, I guess. He just... isn't the type to explain everthing in one go. By the way, why are you still here? It's been months since you're seperated from your captain, and here you are, enjoying your afternoon tea. I thought you worry about him so much that your heart's breaking."

"I'm sorry, but do you have to bring this up during afternoon tea? I'm still not sure if Lord Moria's still alive!"

"Then by all means look for him. It's not like he sent you a secret message about meeting two years later too."

Perona put down her teacup and sighed. "I... I don't know how I'm supposed to face him."

"What do you mean?"

"I was gonna run, you see, when Lord Moria was... was..."

"Defeated."

"...Defeated," she admitted grudgingly. "So, I'm not really sure if I'm still part of the crew now."

"Oh. Well..." memories. "Does he know?"

"No. I was just planning, I didn't tell anyone."

"Then there's more reason for you to go find him. You don't know if he permits something like quitting."

Perona turned to him in disbelief. "I'm sorry, but do you remember that I'm a pirate? Ask for permission to leave? What am I, the navy?"

"If that's what you think, you might as well just forget about looking for him altogether." Zoro shrugged. "You don't give a shit about him as your captain anyway."

"That's not it! I'm just... By the way, why are you taking this so seriously? These things happen on pirate ships all the time. Did you go through some weird rituals when you join your crew?"

Zoro closed his eyes, just like that photo of Luffy at Marineford on the newspapers, holding his hat in front of his chest solemnly, covered in bandages and surrounded by enemies, speaking to his companions scattered around the world.

"You don't understand."

This was the real prohibition. Not the alcohol, not anything else; this. The need to become stronger as much as he could before he reunite with his captain, his crew, this was what urged him on endlessly, what kept him anxious and thirsty and constantly in pain, though not physically. When his swords finally turned as dark as night, it felt like the tension that grew in the strings of Usopp's slingshot when they confronted the entire Enies Lobby, the shot burning right through the World Government's proud flag.

As usual, it was during a fight that he managed to do this, and he was left so drained that Mihawk had to support him as they walked back towards the castle. Zoro had one arm draped around his shoulders, and Mihawk's fingers were closed around his wrist, cool against burning skin.

"I suppose you would like a drink, now that you've done what I asked," Mihawk said with the satisfaction of watching a flower he planted with his own hands blossom. "I'll take a look if I have any sake in storage..."

"No," breathed Zoro as something suddenly flashed in his mind. "If it's about the reward thing... can I ask you question?"

"Curious. Go on."

"That old rival of yours... what is he like?"

Mihawk stopped right there at the question, turning his head towards Zoro. The winds stirred by their swords had not yet subsided, the reddish and golden leaves swirling around them like spirits of the forest, but none were as red as the rubies on the handguard of Night or as gold as Mihawk's eyes. To Zoro, however, it was more like looking into a mirror, seeing his own reminiscence and longing in the eyes of the last person he expected. Asking the question was just a passing thought; he didn't know he would see something like this. It wasn't like that old rival was Mihawk's companion... right?

"He is very much like your captain," said Mihawk.

He said no more, and neither did Zoro.


	4. Sanji

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Sanji**

Gloom Island was something between an autumn island and a winter island. Mihawk had prepared him about the island's winter, about how fickle it was compared to the other seasons here. He also warned about the possibility of having to remain indoors, which meant limited training. The idea itself unsettled Zoro immensely, until autumn was over and Mihawk assured him that this winter probably wouldn't be that bad, according to his experience from living here for some years.

Still, what he saw through the window when he woke up one morning was certainly unexpected. It was the day of rest in every month that he and Mihawk had agreed on, so Zoro wasn't in a haste to tear his eyes off the shocking view. Temperature had dropped below zero, and overnight the forest in the distance suddenly turned white. No snow had fallen, though; the leaves and branches of those sentinel pines were covered with rime. He had never seen such a view before, only recognizing it by trying very hard to recall Nami's meteorology lessons after they left the snowy Drum Island.

The beauty of the rime cheered him up from his recent worries, as he wrapped himself in a random heavy coat and eagerly rushed out of the castle gate. He slowed his pace to a stroll after he entered the forest, noticing the fragility of those white flowers. His smell attracted a small clan of baboons, weapons in hand but struggling at the idea of attacking him, aware of how much this young swordsman had improved. Zoro petted the clan chief on the head. "Not today," he said merrily and walked right past them, leaving the beasts blinking in mixed bewilderment and relief.

Perona joined him within a few minutes, flying and giggering amidst the trees. "Now this is what you call a place to live," she rested on a branch, swinging her legs back and forth, admiring the view with a satisfied smile on her face. "Ah, I wish this place's always like this. Or, at least like this every winter."

They arrived at a glade within the woods, surrounded by fallen trees on three sides, with solid ground and rocks scattered on the floor. Zoro looked around and turned to the girl. "I say we picnick here today."

"A picnic? Here? But it's so cold!"

"I'll get a fire burning." If his crew had been here, they would've feasted for days until these flowers melt away. "Come on, you can make your desserts, just don't add too much sugar in them. Work me however you like. I've experience kneading doughs and stuff."

Sanji used to charge him with these tasks in the kitchen on their ship, first on Merry, later on Sunny. Though Zoro stressed several times that he was better with knives, the cook didn't really trust his skills in them. "Handling a kitchen knife requires delicacy," the cook often scoffed. "And you are the very antonym of that word, mosshead." Recalling these memories sent a slight sense of indignation up Zoro's spine, but he had missed Sanji's cuisines, not that he would ever admit it.

Perona was clearly tempted, but her eyes glanced around sneakily, as if she feared someone would hear what she said. "I'm not sure if Hawk-Eyes will let me use his ingredients," she whispered.

Zoro smiled. "Why don't we invite him too?"

The ghost princess was absolutely horrified with the idea, so horrified that when Zoro decided to ask Mihawk by himself, she tried to stop him by sending out her Negative Hollows. He managed to dodge every one of them while laughing at her fluster all along the way, and eventually they reached the castle, finding Mihawk reading newspapers in his usual seat.

"We're throwing a party out there. Too nice a day to stay indoors. Join us?"

Mihawk looked at him as if he just invited him to go to the moon instead of a picnic. Perona, supposedly recovering her courage, asked, "And can I use your wine? Just a few bottles? I'll make the best Sangria in the world, I promise."

"You're drinking alcohol at noon?"

"Why not?" asked Zoro, unaware that consuming alcohol is an act limited to particular times in a day.

Mihawk sighed, comtemplated, and replied with a hesitation unlike his normal decisiveness. "Alright."

"Great!" Zoro waved a hand in front of an astounded Perona's eyes, waking her from her disbelif that Mihawk would actually say yes. "We'll inform you when we're ready."

They feared that the rime would melt came noon, so they prepared only the easiest snacks. Perona's Sangria looked promising indeed, with apples, lemons, oranges and strawberries in different bottles, and the scent of spices was inviting to the nose. They carried their stuff back to the glade they found earlier, and Zoro set up a fire with a simple slab of rock for cooking meat. Perona lay comfortably on a rosy blanket, while Zoro and Mihawk just sat on rocks or logs.

The ghost princess was wearing a layered black dress with delicate lace and a white furry shawl, her hair tumbled around her waist in wavy curles. Her cheeks and nose were pink from the cold, her smile lovely as she stuffed a puff into her mouth. At Zoro's left sat Mihawk, leaning elegantly on a fallen tree, clad in a cloak of crimson velvet and satin, golden on the rims and embroidered with intricate patterns, fastened on one side of his shoulder with a brooch of silver rose. The way his robe splayed on the snow reminded Zoro of spreading blood, of flowing wine. His mentor looked like some noble lord that walked straight out of a painting. Perhaps Mihawk was indeed a lord; Zoro couldn't think of any other reason that enables a person to have such an air.

"Speaking of cooks," he took a sip of the lemon Sangria, resuming his conversation with Perona in the kitchen. They were just taking about meal qualities on pirate ships, and how do they solve their eating problems under different circumstances. "We were actually looking for a cook, back then when I met you in East Blue," his eyes turned to Mihawk. "In case you didn't notice, the place was... "

"The famous Baratie restaurant. Yes, I noticed."

"Okay, good. Anyway, that guy, the one called 'Black Leg' - stupidest nickname in pirate history - his idiocy was as unbelievable as his culinary skills. Take one Sea King, just one, and he could make a thousand different dishes out of it, each with its own flavor. Not that it's ever enough for Luffy, though, but you get the point."

"Mmmh, I bet his cupcakes aren't as good as mine," Perona licked her fingers.

"What, you think you're the only person in the world that knows how to make cupcakes?" Zoro grabbed a cupcake, fortunately not a chocolate one. "Ten more years and perhaps you can make desserts a tenth as good as his. No, a hundredth."

"Well, if you don't like my desserts, stop eating it!"

"I'm not saying you're bad," Zoro said with his mouth full. "I'm just saying he's way better. It's a fact."

"You are the thickest guy in the world!"

"Fine, fine, you're great, okay? How did you learn to make desserts anyway? Did Moria have his underlings ship ingredients into the Florian Triangle for you every day? How much did he offer to get anyone to do that kind of work?"

"We never trouble Lord Moria with such petty matters," Perona raised her chin. "Enough fools find themselves lost in the Triangle every week. Whenever we lay our hands on a ship, all the spare ingredients automatically came to me. After all, most of the inhabitants on our ship were... not very interested in eating."

"And one of those fools had Moria beaten up," Zoro sneered.

"Don't you insult my captain!"

"Your captain was indeed defeated by Staw-Hat," Mihawk said coolly. "And Gecko Moria doesn't really need insults to look worse than he is right now."

"How can you say that to an honorable late captain?!"

"I told you he's probably alive. Besides, I've never seen anyone grieve by lingering in somebody's else's home uninvited. And you seem to have enough spirit to make Sangria."

"Seriously, what exactly about Moria that made you decide to join him?" asked Zoro.

"Lord Moria is the coolest man in the world," declared Perona. "And being with him is fun."

"Cool? Really? Well, If that's your standard of choosing captains," Zoro pointed a finger at Mihawk. "Why didn't you choose to follow him in the first place? Just look at him, look at this man, and give me specific, convincing explanations about how Moria's cooler than him somehow."

"Follow him? Are you for real? Moria is an amiable and open-minded superior, while this guy is just as approachable as... Mary Geoise!"

Mihawk frowned. "Excuse me, young lady. I understand what you mean, but I refuse to be compared with the Celestial Dragons under any circumstances."

"Alright, my fault. Still, you two should at least have some sympathy towards a lonely lady who lost her captain and protector!"

"If you're so certain your captain's dead, why aren't you training yourself to avenge him?" interrogated Zoro, and the word 'captain' left a bittersweet taste in his mouth that had to be drowned by a large gulp of Sangria, which caused him to start feeling a little dizzy. "It's not like you don't know who did it. It's right there on the headlines, 'Gecko Moria executed by his associate Donquixote Doflamingo.'"

"I... I've got to make sure Lord Moria is alive first! Just... just stop, change the topic, now!"

"Okay, anyway. Where was I?"

"Cook."

"Yes, that swirly-browed idiot cook of ours. We fought for literally anything. The ingredients, the menu, the seasoning, how to set the plates, which dishes should be reserved for the ladies, the best spot on the sofa. Gods, he just stood there and it's enough to make me feel like he's occupying too much space! And we even fought for... back on Thriller Bark, when Bartholomew Kuma was sent there to destroy the place... he came for Luffy's head as well. Government orders, he said. And that damn cook, that bastard... he fought with me for the chance to die in Luffy's stead!"

"What?!" Perona choked on a pink macaroon.

"Ridiculous, eh?" Zoro snorted in self-mockery, meanwhile noticing that his mentor truly started to listen for the first time during this party. "He just had to wake up, to be the one who saw me did that... and tried to stop me, after I've made it as glorious as possible, he just had to jump in and turn everything tragic... "

"You offered your life," Mihawk spoke. "In exchange for your captain's?"

"Yes, that's what I did."

"Okay, I just got the conclusion: you're morons, both of you," Perona spread her arms in disbelief. "Fought for the chance to die for your captain? Even I don't do that for Lord Moria, and I'm quite attached to him!"

"Well, I guess I can't really blame you for not wanting to die for Moria," Zoro shrugged.

"You promised your captain you'll defeat me, become the greatest," Mihawk's golden eyes stared straight into his soul. "And yet you'd break that promise? You would give up your ambition for him?"

"Kuma asked me the same thing," Zoro laughed bitterly. "But I don't really have a choice. If I cannot protect my captain, I cannot protect my ambition."

"You know this is not true," said Mihawk. "You did have a choice, and you made it. You chose your captain over your ambition."

"Not really. As I just said, that damn cook offered to die in my stead. 'If you die, what about your ambition?' That was his exact words. Still, I rejected. Knocked him out."

"So it was friendship you prized. And dignity isn't the only thing you would give up for it."

"No," Zoro held his ground against Mihawk's accusing gaze. He could sense a subtle anger radiating from his mentor, for Zoro's action of abandoning their unvoiced pact made amidst the ship wreck in East Blue. But Zoro would not apologize for that. "That's why I must become stronger. Protecting that dumbass captain of mine isn't an easy task. I'm a swordsman, but I'm a pirate as well, and that means my loyalty lies not just with my sword, but also with my crewmates. I must be strong enough to fulfill my duties, and I have to survive the whole thing to get to you in the end."

"You better," said Mihawk. Another person probably couldn't notice the difference between that one sentence and the many casual sentences Mihawk said in daily life, but Zoro could sense that slight tinge of threatening, as if his mentor was nervous that he would throw away his life for something other than their eventual duel again. Somehow, that realization sent a jolt of excitement up Zoro's spine. _He cares as much as I do,_ he thought in gladness and satisfaction.

"Anyway," Perona sighed, clearly not getting what they meant by all that incoherent nonsense. "I just wanna live long enough to see all the cute things in the world."

Zoro smiled at that, because it sounded so like his crewmates' declarations, even though the spirit was not there at all. _I will draw a global map. I will invent a panacea that cures all illnesses. I will find the legendary All Blue._

"The rime will stay for a few days," Mihawk said before he drained his glass of Sangria. "Tomorrow we train here."

"Here? But these things... "

"Are extremely fragile, yes. You must concentrate your Haki on your sword, prevent it from spilling everywhere and stirring the wind." Mihawk cocked his brows, eyes glittering in rare mischief. "You must protect them, and at the same time handle my attacks."

Taking the hint, Zoro accepted the challenge with a bold smile. "I will."


	5. Chopper

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Chopper**

"We're not training today."

Zoro looked up from his breakfast, "What's wrong?"

"I'm going into the forest to vaccinate the newborn humandrills," Mihawk said stirring his coffee. "The springs are extremely damp here. There'll likely be a flu, or even something worse. The adults are strong enough to withstand it, but the young are much more vulnerable."

"Mmmh, I see. But wouldn't it... damage ecological balance or stuff?"

"They imitate warring humans, which means they're good enough at killing each other. That'll keep down their population."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," Zoro bit another mouthful of onigiri. "Can I help you with anything? There's a lot of them out there, I doubt if you can finish the job in just one day."

"Do you have the experience of doing something like this?"

"Uhhh..."

Despite having perhaps one of the best doctors on ship, Zoro really didn't know anything about giving shots. In fact, he was usually the one that's been given shots of anathetics, and even that he had often neglected.

Perona giggled at the other side of the table, chewing on her chocolate donuts. "I can give you some experience. Just come over and sew my dresses and teddy bears, it'll sure help you learn how to handle needles."

"No bears, thank you. I..." Zoro felt his face heating up under Mihawk's long glance. It started out as nothing but a kind offer of assistance, but when he realized he had none to offer, it suddenly turned into an urge to just do something with Mihawk that's not training. Was he spoiled by that picnic of theirs?

"I just wanna help, that's all."

Mihawk thought for a few seconds, and replied, "Fine. You can help me hold them down while I'm givng the shots."

They went weaponless, with only Mihawk's presence as a means of intimidation, and that had been enough even without Night. Perona followed as well, going around in the woods picking wild flowers for her bedroom decorations and toiletry materials. Though Mihawk ignored and dodged the lilacs she mischieviously threw at him, he seemed to be in quite a good mood as well; those sharp golden eyes were softened by the morning sun into whirlpools of honey, and the furrows between his brows were soothed by the warm spring breeze. Even his dark hair was left a little disheveled, a few strands falling on his forehead instead of being combed starchily backwards. Zoro could see the reason why Perona threw flowers at him, though he couldn't really word it properly.

"So, you've studied medicine too?" he asked.

"Not really," said Mihawk. "I learned it a few years ago, when a pandemic broke out on the island. The vaccines are bought from countries famous for medical researches; I only read about how to give shots."

There was this hidden sentence of "I couldn't watch them suffer" that Zoro didn't press him to say it out loud. No explanations were needed about why he allowed the humandrills to fight each other yet saved them from illnesses. They were swordsmen, after all, and it wasn't in their nature to run from or prevent the happening of conflicts. Diseases, however, is an entirely different matter. There was simply no glory in dying from illness. On the other hand, these creatures were perhaps the only companions Mihawk had on this obsolete island, before Zoro and Perona showed up. No doubt there was a soft spot in Mihawk that's reserved for them, merciless as he may seem to be.

They were quickly surrounded by humandrills when they stepped into their territory, and the chief went out to meet them. Mihawk extended a hand towards it, and they shook hands in a way that suggested they've done this many times. Mihawk gestured Zoro to step forward and shake hands with the chief too; the large humandrill looked at him and his hand with squinted eyes, as if contemplating whether or not to lacerate him. But at last it grasped Zoro's sweating hand and shook with the reluctance of an officer having to compromise to a newbie.

"You're officially accepted as an ally," Mihawk told him. "If you wish to come here for non-violent purposes, do this and they'll behave."

The alliance was nice, because Zoro didn't need to train by fighting the humandrills anymore. But... "Do I need it? I'm not staying here for that long." In fact, it's very likely that he'll never return to this place after he left. There was really no need to make him part of this island like he's part of the family somehow. He's a guest, that's all. A pirate's home is always the sea, the ship.

"It is my wish," was Mihawk's only answer.

The glades in the forest were as soft and lively as the grass and flowers on Thousand Sunny, always fresh and carefully tended by the two ladies. And the warmth of holding a baby humandrill, the needle in Mihawk's hands... everything reminded him of Chopper.

Everyone on Sunny had cuddled Chopper at some point; there was just no way they could help it. Especially after treatments, when confined to the bed in sick bay, frustrated by the wounds taken in accidents or battles, Chopper's furry arms and antlers were such comfort. Zoro remembered those days after he suffered Kuma's trial on Thriller Bark, during his half-unconsciousness he could feel Chopper checking on him, and those gentle hands alone were enough to assure him that he would live. Even if he was ready to die, Chopper would not let him.

And then there was the responding part, because when the Strawhats sought strength from their young medic, Chopper was often worried as well. When the little reindeer was safely encircled within the arms of one of them, he would start shivering and confessing about his concerns, about his incompetence as a doctor and as a pirate, whether or not he was fit to be one of the Strawhats, and whoever was cuddling him would always pet him and soothe him, again and again. Zoro had never been good at this part; usually he would just say something like "You're our medic, so there's nothing to worry about."

He was indulging so deeply in memories that he forgot to return the baby humandrill to its mother, who hissed at him in barely suppressed fury. Reluctanly, he gave one last stroke on the cub's soft furry back and released it from his hold.

They worked for the entire day to make sure all of them were taken care of, when they were finally on their way back it was already nightfall. They had walked too far away from the castle that it was impossible to reach there before dawn, so they settled in a cottage atop a hill. Mihawk had clearly used this place before, judging from the ordered furnitures, contrast to the ruined and chaotic exterior.

Perona took the bed while Zoro lounged on the couch, but Mihawk seemed tireless despite a whole day of work. When Zoro was waken by the humandrills' howling in the middle of the night, he opened his eyes to see Mihawk still sitting beside the window, eyes scanning the dark forest beneath, reaching out with his Observation Haki to see what the beasts were doing.

The fire crackled in the wall, chasing away the dampness of the night. Zoro glanced at the girl, and saw her sound asleep tucked in a simple blanket. The flowers she gathered were temporarily kept in a wooden jug filled with water on the table, filling the little space with pleasant fragrance. Zoro slipped out of the couch, tiptoed across the room to avoiding waking Perona, and came to sit at Mihawk's side, looking outside the window with him.

"When did you make an alliance with them?" he asked softly. "How long did it take for you to make peace?"

"We had our agreements about two years ago. Not very long," said Mihawk as he listened to the beasts' howls. "After all, it took two years for this place to stop smelling like blood and sulfur, another two years for me to clear up all the dead bodies nearby, and another two years for us to get along."

"Sounds like it wasn't just a pact of not bothering each other," Zoro put his chin on the window frame, eyeing lazily at the shape of Mihawk's jaw. Was that beard as soft as the fur of baby baboons, or was it rough as that of an adult? His fingers twitched with the urge to feel it, but he was too drowsy to raise his hand. "What do you usually do with them?"

Mihawk paused for a while, and replied, "I talk to them."

"You...?"

Zoro almost laughed at the ridiculousness of it. The humandrills were clever, but just not clever enough for them to master human language. Of all the things these smart animals could do, Mihawk chose the one thing that they couldn't?

"As you know, this island is obsolete. There's no one else for me to talk to."

"Then why? Why do you choose to live here if you can't bear it? You can, you know, talk to actual people."

Mihawk turned his eyes towards Zoro. "I bear many titles. The greatest swordsman, the Seven Warlords of the Sea... those names attract enmity, and envy. I accepted the Government's offer to avoid petty troubles, but if I grow too close with others, it's still possible that'd be used against me. I will not allow such devious plots to be my downfall."

"So you consider friendship as a weakness?"

"Not everyone's as strong as your companions, Roronoa. I have strength, and I can induce fear... but I've no organization of my own, unlike some of my colleagues. I lack control, and that prevents me from providing absolute protection."

"That's not an excuse. Why don't you just go and find someone strong enough? You're not interested in weaklings anyway."

Zoro thought that he was too provoking, but Mihawk seemed genuinely intrigued by his words. He shifted in his chair into a more relaxed position, looking at Zoro looking at a companion instead of a student.

"Don't you feel that emotions do not fit with swords?" said Mihawk. "Something merciless as blades... even if there's honor and pride in a battle, the destination is always death."

"If that's the case, why didn't you kill me back in East Blue?"

"Mercy is a privilege of the strong. For someone still on the path of getting stronger, there's no such leisure. Do you think I did the same thing to my enemies when I wasn't yet the strongest?"

"But still, it's not like you can help it. And it's not just one-sided, is it? You care for those animals, and they give you peace so you still have them to talk to. I protect... we protect our medic, and after the fight he fix our wounds, keep us alive. It's not an exchange, it's... partnership. Cooperation. Having each other's backs."

"And what will you do if that urge to protect your companions is used against you? That has already caused the downfall of the stongest man in the world."

"You're the one that witnessed Whitebeard's death. Does it look shameful to you?"

Mihawk supported his chin on his palm. "I think I'm starting to understand you. The fact doesn't change; the possibility of being used, the weakness, it always exists. But only those who are alone see it as such. The ones who are not do it willingly, even consider it as their honor, to risk their lives saving their friends. When friendship happens, everthing change. It's not something that could be helped, you say?"

"Well..." it's starting to get a little complicated for Zoro. "I guess it's just that Luffy never cares about it that much. He wants it and he does it, that's all. He can make friends with literally anyone as long as he wishes, even with enemies."

"Like what we're doing now?"

Zoro's head went blank for a few seconds as he stared at the upward curve of Mihawk's lips. Despite the shock, he followed the chain of logic in his mind pretty fast. _Making friends with enemies. They're making friends with enemies. Enemies means them. So they're..._

"What?"

Mihawk snorted, but it somehow sounded akin to soft laughter. "Nothing. Go back to sleep."

"But, no, wait..."

"Go back to sleep."


	6. Robin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Robin**

Mihawk's armory was literally paradise for Zoro. The large room had walls painted in crimson, with all sorts of swords hanging on dark wooden shelves. There was a little workshop in the right corner for maintenance, and a dojo-like empty space on the left for them to try the weapons out. Zoro didn't know which one should he put his eyes on, because all of them seem to have lethally elegant curves and so many other details for him to process with one look. Many of them were so speical that he hadn't even heard of the type of sword before, and he was desperate to inspect them thoroughly, see how they worked. It was like facing too many dishes of delicacies that he couldn't decide which one to try first.

But his hunger was soon filled, because Mihawk took every one of them down from their spots and introduced those swords to him, one by one. In that moment, Zoro realized that this was the real boon of having Mihawk as teacher; Haki was only the basics, what's truly precious in Mihawk's knowledge was his experience. He had fought and defeated swordsmen from around the world, and knew exactly the methods to overcome their respective techniques.

"This," Mihawk held up the blade for Zoro to get a closer look, "is called a rapier. This type of sword originates from the Bourgeois Kingdom, and along with their special blades, they developed their own special style of fighting."

"It's so skinny."

"It's designed primarily to thrust. The soldiers of Bourgeois Kingdom stand sideways in battle and attack with quick motions of advance, usually a step forward of whichever foot they position at the front. Their swords strike so fast they look like serpents in a hunt. There are two effective ways to handle their attacks: first, if you're not quick enough, or if you're not planning to kill, you press your sword to the side of their blade and force it to misdirect; second, if you're quick enough, and if you're not planning to spare, you dodge it, seize the chance to approach his unguarded body, and directly go for the kill."

Mihawk handed the blade over to him, letting Zoro admire the beauty in her full glory, and settled her back to place. Hawk eyes scanning lazily over the wall of glory, Mihawk selected a sword that's quite the opposite from the rapier. This one was straight and double-edged, and ridiculously broad and heavy to Zoro's standards. Of course, the mysteriously elegantly wildly beautiful Night was never ridiculous, still safely worshipped in Zoro's shrine of admiration.

"This is a longsword. I presume you don't often see her among Marine soldiers? As you've noticed, she's not suitable for battles on the sea. Nevertheless, this is a very important type of weapon that you must know how to deal with. Many of the giants in Elbaf choose longswords as their weapons, and, should you ever go there, you will see longswords commonly used in Dressrosa, a large and wealthy kingdom in the New World, specifically by the gladiators of that famous colosseum in that country. The most famous of them was called Kyros, a wielder of longsword as well. Legends claim he won three thousand victories in the colosseum without ever being defeated, therefore the old king Riku gave him his freedom and made him captain of the Dressrosa army."

"Sounds like a cool guy. Will I ever get to meet him?"

"He's dead for years."

"Oh," Zoro sighed pitifully, but he wasn't particularly upset. This atmosphere called back to mind those nights on Sunny, on which they would gather around Robin in the library and listen to her telling the histories of islands around the world. Robin would look at them with the smile of a mother, as if all of them were just children or little brothers and sisters to her (and come to think of it that's very true, because Franky and Brook's maturity couldn't even start to match their actual age, so Robin had always been the de facto oldest member of the Strawhat Pirates). On those nights Zoro would be the one lounging in the corner, behind the eargerly listening Nami, Usopp and Chopper, pinching Luffy awake whenever their idiot captain was falling asleep on history lessons. Robin's voice was as gentle and enchanting as the fragrance of flowers, slowly filling the space with quiet, soothing pleasantness.

But Mihawk was a completely different matter. Listening to him talk about these things, the history engraved in every type of swords, it was like savoring good sake, satisfaction seeping into the bones and head dizzy in a more metaphorical than physcial sense. The crimson of the walls seemed to be flowing in Zoro's eyes, as if it was blood or wine. For a brief moment Mihawk's voice simply buzzled in his ears and inside his skull, vibrating satiatingly along his spine.

"...Roronoa," the same voice that made him drunk snapped him back to reality. "Are you listening?"

"Wha... yeah, yeah, of course!" Zoro awkwardly tried to cover up his distraction. "Yes, apply the strength along the blade, same technique when handling all greatswords."

Mihawk eyed him suspiciously, but didn't question him further. Another blade was taken down, an elegant curved sword with a circular beige guard of gilded gold and hilt wrapped in soft green leather. Somehow, the one struck Zoro as strangely familiar, as if he had caught a glimpse of her somewhere before.

"This is called a saber," Mihawk continued. "Now, if an opponent wields this type of sword, you must predict his moves by looking at the curve of the blade. Some sabers are very curved, which suggests that they're used mainly to slash. Enemies that use them tend to position their sword arm above their heads and perform continuous downward slashes, a very aggressive and dangerous style of fighting. Blocking those attacks would be inefficient, it allows very few mistakes, and it exhausts you. You must be cautious, and only aim for the gap that you deem is the safest. If the blade is not so curved, it can also be used to thrust. This one belongs to the latter."

"I feel like I've seen her before."

"You've got keen eyes," Mihawk gave it a few casual swings with, strangely, his left hand. "This one is a copy. The original is well-known, not because of her quality, but her owner. Gryphon, she is called, wielded by one of the Four Emperors of the New World, Red-Haired Shanks."

Zoro immediately remembered where he saw her. In the tape of the Battle of Marineford, when Red-Hair arrived and challenged all those who wish to continue the war, sword in hand. But... "But he was wielding her with his right hand."

"You notice he has only one arm? He used to be left-handed."

"And really, her? I mean, she's a good sword, but I thought an Emperor would have something better. Like your Night."

"Red-Hair isn't the only Emperor with no Devil Fruit powers for no reason. His Haki is enough to make any blade as good as a Supreme Grade sword."

The way Mihawk regarded the blade, that nostalgic look in his eyes, those lips discreetly curving upwards as if in excitement, yet that jawline somehow forlorn... everything was crying out stories, history, mysteries, yet they remain out of Zoro's reach. The frustration was almost thrilling when Mihawk was involved.

"Now this," Mihawk reached for the large ornate box at the center of the armory, "is a bit complicated."

Zoro had had a feeling about what's in the box the moment he laid eyes on it, but actually seeing it still had his heart thumping like drums. The sword Mihawk took out from the box was no other than Night, as dark as her name and as elegant and stylish as her master. Mihawk held her up for him to get a closer look, a privilege that made him felt like he was dreaming. It was almost weird that this was happening, when they're supposed to be eternal rivals and create as much disadvantage for each other as possible. Allowing an enemy to inspect your weapon was not unlike baring your throat.

"Technically speaking, Night belongs to the genre of kriegsmessers."

"But?"

"But, she is too large to be categorized as any specific type. Well, I suppose the 'large' is relative, or Murakumogiri can't be classed as a naginata while she certainly is one. Still, Night's design differs from kriegsmessers from various perspectives."

Zoro almost reached for the dark blade, but Mihawk's eyes told him that certain boundaries couldn't be crossed even though they had already crossed some. No matter how much he wanted to trail his fingers across the patterns on the golden crossguard he must not, just like he still couldn't get the chance to sink his own blades into Mihawk's skin in battle yet. The sword looked like Mihawk, felt like Mihawk; not just in a metaphorical sense, but something about that black blade certainly had Mihawk's... scent? trace? mark? Zoro wasn't sure.

Interested by the discovery, he unsheathed his own black blade. Shusui looked like a toothpick compared to Night, but her jagged wave-like hamon was no less imposing. Black blades, huh?

"It isn't common to see katanas of such quality appearing in the first half of Grand Line," Mihawk told him while his eyes took in appreciatively Shusui's fine gleam. "In case you don't know, the origin of this type of weapons, the Wano Country, is in the New World. Not to mention this one in particular, Shusui, Wano Country's national treasure. She's been lost for 22 years. How did you come by her, may I ask?"

"Well," Zoro grinned, "I got her from Ryuma himself. Defeated him and he gave her to me."

"Oh, really?" Mihawk cocked an eyebrow. "Legends claim he was so strong he beheaded a dragon that flew over the capital of Wano Country; such a foe I fear you cannot defeat even after our training. And, as a reminder, he died a few centuries ago."

Zoro shrugged, "It's Moria."

"...Ah. I see," Mihawk pursed his lips in slight disgust at the mention of that name. "Nasty man."

"Agree."

Mihawk looked genuinely surprised when he drew Sandai Kitetsu next. "Well, well, what a strange connection you have with Wano Country. Shusui, Kitetsu, and Wado Ichimonji... all three of your swords are forged in the same realm."

"Really? Even Wado Ichimonji?"

"Yes indeed. And aren't you fond of swords with trouble... first the sword of a dragonslayer, now a cursed one." Mihawk leaned in closer to observe the almost demonically wavy hamon on Sandai Kitetsu's blade, his appreciative gaze taking on a swordsman's greed. "Though I can see why you prefer her."

"Got her from Loguetown. A decent shop, run by a decent man. Told me he couldn't sell her to me because she curse anyone that owns her. I took the challenge, and she didn't get to kill me, so the old man gave her to me as a gift, along with another one." He mourned quietly for Yubashiri in his heart.

And at last, Wado Ichimonji. "This... this one's special."

"How so? She's fine, very fine, but perhaps the most ordinary among the three you carry."

Zoro didn't argue, only continued with his explanation. "She used to belong to my friend," he paused to take a deep breath. "Her name was Kuina."

He had never thought he would become a narrator like Robin one day; he had always been the silent one, the most serious one among the crew. But there he was, telling his story about Kuina in all its details, about his repetitive losing, their diligent training, her frustration, their promise, her sudden and tragic death, his resolve to become the greatest swordsman in the world so that she would hear his name in the heavens. At some point Mihawk led him across the room, and they sat down facing each other while Zoro continued and Mihawk patiently listened.

It hadn't mattered before, his past, his purpose. Mihawk had so many people challenging his position over the years, and no matter how much potential he had, Roronoa Zoro was only one of them. He knew it was meaningless for Mihawk to know all this; it only had meaning for Zoro himself. But things had changed, and...

And that's it. They had changed, their relationship had changed. What used to not matter can be said out loud, because he knew the other would listen, and understand, and accept, and their bond would deepen. Zoro didn't tell his story to show his resolve - he didn't need to - he did this becaue he wanted to. He wanted to share his past, his heart with his mentor, to hear the response coming from Mihawk, because he knew there _would be_ a response.

And the response came. "So that's the reason. No wonder I have that feeling before," Mihawk laughed softly, an expression Zoro very rarely saw on his face.

"That feeling?"

"You tell me. When you look at Night, what do you feel?"

"I feel..." Zoro pillaged his brain for words, because they were never enough. "I feel that she's you. Literally."

"See, you do understand. This sword, Wado Ichimonji, is the manifestation of your promise with your friend, and you have devoted all of you into fulfilling that promise. The sword _is_ you. I assume I will see her on your hip the day you come for my head."

"Of course," declared Zoro. "And supreme and great be damned, I'll prove that she's better than Night."

"You'll have to make her your black blade in that case."

"What? What do you mean? But I like her in this color!"

"Me too," Mihawk laughed again, this time a little annoyingly. "May I?"

Zoro didn't exactly know what Mihawk was gonna do, but he allowed it nonetheless. Slowly and carefully, Mihawk enveloped his palm over the back of Zoro's hand, the hand that was holding the hilt of Wado Ichimonji, and drew the blade closer to him. He inspected her with a fixation that wasn't so different from the way Zoro just observed Night, even occasionally stealing a few glances at Zoro's face. His thumb rested on Zoro's knuckle, trapping the young, restless blood in that firm grip.

Zoro breathed in deeply the moment Mihawk withdrew his hand, as if he'd been holding his breath all this time.

"What you just told me," Mihawk fixed his gaze on him, "are you sure it's meant for my ears?"

Well, as bad as Zoro was with words, he could understand that it's just a fancy way to ask "why did you tell me this." He gave the answer he already have. "I just want you to know."

Mihawk closed his eyes briefly. "Then I shall remember every word you said."

They remained in silence like that for few more moments, taking in and adjusting to this new level of understanding and intimacy. Then Mihawk stood, and Zoro naturally followed him.

"Now, let's go outside and see if you're actually paying attention to the class," Mihawk smiled, even more annoying than the last time, "instead of staring at... something."

And there was nothing Zoro could do but flush red with indignation.


	7. Franky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Franky**

"Over there!" Perona shouted. "I can see his ship! Boat!"

Zoro could too. Even if it was only a flash of ghostly green light, he could recognize the candle on Mihawk's boat amidst the screaming lightnings and roaring waves. He strapped his bandana tightly on his head, ready for battle. Before he barged out of the door, he turned to Perona and asked, "You can handle this on your own?"

"This is my home, seaweed head, I don't need to _handle_ anything. Worry about yourself!"

"Alright then. I'm going out!"

"Good luck!"

Zoro rushed out of the cabin, making for the platform on top of the yacht. The turbulence was so fierce that he could barely keep balance, the pouring rain blinding him along with the darkness, and the cracking of lightnings hurt his eardrums. It's been too long since he was on a ship in the middle of a storm.

The lesson was simple but vital - to train Zoro's battle techniques on the sea. Such skills were naturally necessary for pirates, but in truth Zoro's experience in this field was very limited, since he was pirate for only about a year. So Mihawk had led them here, the Florian Triangle, the most dangerous region in the first part of Grand Line. They spilt up after they arrived, Zoro with Perona and Mihawk on his own, and he must fight Mihawk every time they encounter each other, regardless of the weather conditions they were in.

The yacht Mihawk selected for them was some kind of royal barge, so it was sturdy enough to withstand the storms. With Perona as his teammate, navigation in the Triangle wouldn't be a problem, since this place literally used to be her hunting grounds. Zoro had not a shred of idea about how Mihawk could handle the weather with that boat of his, but just like Perona had said, he's busy enough worrying about himself.

There was nothing. Well, not _nothing_ , but not the things he wanted. There was no Sunny's sturdy mast for him to hold on to, no guidance from Nami to follow, no sight of Franky spinning the helm, no fearless cheers of Luffy for him to draw strength from. There was only him, his sword, the raging sea, and the adversary. The ships had always been his protection, whether it was Going Merry or Thousand Sunny, a shelter for the Straw-Hat pirates to take refugee, a home. But now it was him that must protect the yacht beneath his feet, because if he couldn't, Mihawk's slashes would easily destroy her, and there's no need to say what would happen to Perona and him in this storm.

He coated his swords with Haki, preventing the steel from attracting lightning. At least Mihawk was kind enough to tell him to do this before they set out. There was no way he could see Mihawk clearly under this circumstance, so Haki was also his only functioning eyes and ears. Zoro's teeth sank into the familiar spots on Wado Ichimonji's hilt, chest heaving with heavy breaths, focusing his attention on Mihawk as much as possible amidst the howling wind.

And Mihawk moved. His mentor's figure lept up from the boat like a flying shadow, falling towards him in a smooth parabola, as if the storm posted not a shred of hindrance. Zoro could not do the same - he wasn't even keeping complete balance just standing - so he simply raised his arms and blocked. Lightning flashed and for a split second Mihawk's face became clear in front of his eyes, the golden eyes, the familiar coat of red and black, Night and Sandai Kitetsu's blade spurting sparks. It was a clash heavy enough to make Zoro's arms numb, but he could feel that this was only a greeting, a hello, a light kiss on the cheek. Evidence would be the fact that the yacht beneath his feet wasn't spliting into two like a piece of cake sliced open by a knife.

Using Zoro as leverage, Mihawk lept away, again drawing a parabola in the air. He twisted his body mid-air, stepping on a lifebuoy he released into the sea earlier, and landed gracefully back on the deck of his small boat.

"Oh shit," Zoro gasped, eyes widened in awe. Oh shit, indeed. So he's a student even in pirateship, eh?

Mimicking Mihawk, he grabbed the lifebuoy on the side of the yacht and threw it into the water, but making sure it's still connected to the yacht by a rope. This would give him another platform to use as leverage, like Mihawk just did.

The next clash was met completely in the air, with Zoro and Mihawk both leaping from their vessels. The wind was so strong it blew Zoro away from his scheduled route; he barely stepped on his lifebuoy, and jumped crashing into the balustrade. He struggled back to the deck of the yacht, spitting out the bitter sea water along the way. A window opened, and Perona stuck her head out, "You okay?"

"I'm fine!" He shouted back, making his way back to the platform. Mihawk had waited patiently for him to get back together; though this was certainly polite of an enemy and caring of a teacher, it somehow pissed Zoro off. "Alright," he said between his teeth as he set Wado Ichimonji back in his mouth, "round two."

It was a harsh lesson, perhaps harsher than any one he had with Mihawk before. But he was quick learner, especially in an intense battle such as this. As if sensing Zoro's anger, Mihawk didn't gave him another chance to breathe. As the duel continued on the roaring sea, the blood started rushing to his head, allowing the fever of battle to take over his brain. He couldn't remember how many times he lept or fell or shifted himself in the air or landed. All he could see was Mihawk; he jumped through waves, rode on the hurricane, endured the sting of raindrops crashing on his skin, just to get their swords to clash, to kiss, to touch. Nature became the audience, the thunder their cheers, the rain their applause, the waves their excited jumps at every moment of highlight in this contest. So elegant and so lethal, like a deadly dance.

The duel went on and on, until the storm stopped when Zoro was bold enough to leap on to Mihawk's boat and crosss swords at close range. The sky was still dark - it's always dark in the Florian Triangle, due to the fog - but clearly the storm cloud had moved away. They stopped in unison, distracted by the sudden change of weather.

"Grand Line," Mihawk murmured, "always so fickle." He placed his sword on his back, gave a few pats on his coat. "We're done for the day," he declared, "let's continue next time."

"Next time? But..." Zoro looked around, but all he could see was fog. There was no sign of Perona's yacht, not even he reached out with his Haki.

"She should be fine," Mihawk's voice dragged him back from his panic. "Get some rest. You look like you're going to sleep standing."

_Luffy does that, not me._ He just wanted to say when he literally slipped and fell over, face landing on the wooden deck. He swore he could hear a chuckle coming from Mihawk. He struggled to sit up, dragging his limbs that were suddenly as heavy as lead, while Mihawk seemed to press something on the mast.

And some miracle happened. The coffin-like small boat, so plain and old-fashioned, transformed - the kind of transformation that would drive Luffy and Usopp and Franky mad - into a high-tech enclosed vehicle that made Sunny look like an antique. Words failed him - he was never good with them, and there's just so many details when it comes to technology stuff that he could hardly describe every single thing he saw. Franky would've explain all of this nonsense explictly if he was here. All Zoro could say was that everything turned metallic, futuristic, complicated.

"What the hell?"

"Vegapunk built this for me," Zoro was so shocked that he didn't realize Mihawk took him by the wrist and led him into that little space of comfort. "I... well, I asked him for a favor, as an honorable member of the Seven Warlords."

"Asked him for a favor," Zoro repeated, "you mean you didn't have to pay a single Beri for... all this."

Mihawk shrugged, with a suspicious smirk on his mustache. "I'm still a pirate in the official records. Besides, it was quite pleasing to see that government lunatic so pissed."

It was pleasant, this boat. Well, not completely pleasant, because Zoro had figured out a long time ago that he wasn't into Mihawk's taste for color design. But at least there was a roof above his head, allowing the wind and the rain to be only the splashing sounds on the windows. Mihawk threw him a blanket to cover himself, but he could feel that there's some sort of heating system inside the space that's already drying him off. Though the space was clearly meant for only one passenger, Mihawk had let Zoro take the seat, himself sitting on the deck, as if he's going to take to take the watch.

And it seemed he was. "Get some sleep, Roronoa."

Zoro lay down on the spot, which flatened into a mattress as he moved, without pressing any buttons. To be honest, the habit of sleeping in a bed was only cultivated after he came to Glood Island. On Sunny, he could sleep anywhere he liked; he had often slept in the gym in the crow's nest, sometimes on the bench beside the grassland, and occasionally on his bunk in the men's quarters. And right now, sleeping with such comfort on a boat, it was like a combination of his pirate days and the days he had spent with Mihawk.

He dreamt, first about jolly rogers with a strawhat and a lion head like a sun and tangerine trees, later about castles and corridors and dark capes. When he sat up, there was no familiar greet, only smooth and regular breathing. He had never seen Mihawk asleep, not to mention like this, leaning against the mast with tender attachment. Mihawk had a thing for his cherish items, this Zoro had perceived over the months. It wasn't as passionate as Franky's inventor fever, but the way a loner would treat his things like actual people. The castle, the island, this ship, the sword Night... when one got to know about Dracule Mihawk, one could see that these things had become part of his flesh. It wasn't some kind of fetish either, at least not in Zoro's eyes. For he had felt the same, when he bore witness to the funeral of Merry and the birth of Sunny, the way an object was given meaning and life.

There was no need to shake Mihawk awake. Zoro only stared for a moment, and the great swordsman openened his eyes, vigilant but without enmity.

"I'll take the next watch," said Zoro.

Mihawk let out a huff. "Who would've thought we would fall sleep under each other's nose one day?" But he moved to the mattress anyway.

He was right. They were in the middle of a training session, and they had just finished a duel. Despite everything they've been through this whole year, neither of them forgot that they're rivals. Zoro literally told Mihawk that he asked him to train him in order to take his head one day.

Yet there he was, watching over Mihawk's sleep. He curled up against the mast, observing Mihawk's brows, that scultped nose, the cutting cheekbones, the thin lips, and couldn't help but think that this was his life, and would be the rest of his life; the sound of waves, the gleam of steel, the laughter of friends, the protection of a ship, and the road to Mihawk.

Until Mihawk spoke all of a sudden, eyes closed.

"Stop staring," he said quietly. "I can't sleep like this."


	8. Brook

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Brook**

It was hard to describe the emotions that welled up in Zoro's chest when he saw the familiar skeletal face printed on the newspaper. For a whole day the lyrics of Binks' Brew played itself repeatedly in his head, mixed with the laughter of his companions, and images of Sunny's lush meadow flashed frequently in front of his eyes. He managed to concentrate on the training, but his heart rate just wouldn't go down; he couldn't bear to sit or just stay in one spot, as if every one of his cells were cheering in delight. Once in a while the idea of secretly going to the concert would cross his mind, but Brook was simply too far away.

Perona was doing the dishes that night, and Mihawk went out for a conventional walk on the beach, so Zoro took the liberty to visit the lounge in the castle. Supposedly the former royalty of this kingdom used this hall for fancy tea parties reserved for lords and ladies, so the lounge was filled with couches and cushions, things encouraging idleness that Mihawk disapprove of, which is the reason why the great swordsman had never been seen visiting this place, neither by Zoro or Perona.

But Zoro wasn't looking for the couches and cushions; what drove him to come here was the lone piano that sat in the corner of the hall. He inspected the instrument before laying his hands on it: he had never seen it played before, but there was no dust on the surface. Whether it was Mihawk or Perona that took care of it, he didn't know.

He lifted the lid, pressing his finger on a random key, and the sound plucked at the strings of his heart. History of music on Straw Hat pirate ships was short. They sung popular songs during beach barbecues, and Robin sometimes hummed simple tunes while caring for her flowers, but proper music only began after Brook's recruitment. Franky and Usopp were working on a room on Sunny for Brook to store his instruments, but they hadn't been able to finish it before they were seperated.

_Binks' Brew_ was undoubtedly the favorite of them all, but Zoro was having another melody in mind, the one he remembered hearing during his recovery from taking Luffy's wounds after Thriller Bark. A gentle, soothing melody it was, and Zoro knew Brook played it for him in particular, for he only recalled hearing it when he had trouble sleeping with the wounds causing him pain every second.

Despite having such tacit understanding with the skeletal musician and swordsman, Roronoa Zoro knew absolutely nothing about music. But the urge to hear his favorite song was stronger than ever before, and Brook was thousands of miles away. He fumbled his fingers clumsily across the board, locating the keys he wanted one by one, only to forget the last one when he found the next. The melody wasn't an easy one to play and memorize for a complete amateur. Irritated, he raised his hand with a scowl, wanting to smash his fist down on the instrument, only to be stopped by the familiar prescence behind him.

He lowered his fist awkwardly as Mihawk approached him, stopping on the oppsite side of the piano. His mentor didn't mock him, though. "Patience," said Mihawk with his usual even tone. "Sit. If you want to do it, do it properly."

Zoro took a deep breath, sitting down on the bench as instructed. Somehow Mihawk's presence went from embarassing to assuring, enabling Zoro to focus his attention on reproducing the music in his memory on the instrument in front of him. He memorized the notes more carefully, connecting them together little by little. The melody slowly revealed itself to him on the board, like a good sword sliding out of her sheath, like the moon appearing behind heavy clouds, like a beautiful woman lifting her veil. Every time he struck the right key there was a sting in his chest, and it increased exponentionally as he connected the notes. He almost didn't notice Mihawk's hand on his shoulder when he managed to play a complete small section, gripped so tightly by that dull, heavy ache.

Mihawk signalled him to move, sitting himself on the bench. He put his fingers on the board, playing out the melody in its entirety. Mihawk certainly wasn't as skilled as Brook, but hearing it with his own ears after nearly two years was enough to break something in Zoro. All strength in his body suddenly left him, and his eyes were hot when he leaned on the piano, unable to support himself any longer. No tear came; the pain reminded him of slow poison, seperating his wall of defense from him like a process of precipitation. His stomach churned, his heart twisted, and his vigilance seemed to have departed, leaving him with not even a shred of will to fight.

He couldn't lift his eyes to bare his vulnerablity when Mihawk finished playing the last note and stood, though he knew his mentor could sense how weak and sorrowful he was at the moment. Again Mihawk didn't mock him, oddly enough.

"I thought your companions delight you," he said. "I thought they give you strength. I've seen how your captain fueled your ambition, solidified your determination. What brings you to tears, now that you have news of your friend?"

"You sound as if you don't know what people feel when they haven't seen their friends for a long time," Zoro half-growled to him. "It's called missing someone."

"I know. But I thought you're... different."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought it isn't impossible, after I saw you and your captain," Mihawk said as he turned away his gaze. "To be not alone without having weaknesses."

Suddenly aware of the solitude seeping through the castle's heavy walls, Zoro blurted out. "Is this your own doing then?" He gestured to the lonely fortress that enclosed them. "Casting everything aside except for sword, having nothing else in mind... is this the price you had to pay to become the greatest? Not just avoiding bringing trouble on others?"

"I'm never a man of teams."

"Nor was I," Zoro shrugged, attempting to shake off his desolation and failing. "I guess you just don't have your version of Luffy."

Mihawk narrowed his golden eyes, and for a moment Zoro thought he was going to retort, but eventually Mihawk made no response to his reckless assumption. So Zoro continued, "Is it necessary? To be alone, to put nothing above your sword?"

"You've asked a meaningless question, Roronoa," said Mihawk. "Your companions are already above your sword in your heart. Whatever I say will not make any difference."

"Why not? I'm not abandoning my companions, of course, but it's not like meeting you isn't one of the most important things in my life. What you said when we first met certainly made a big difference to me." Zoro dropped his eyes briefly, only to lift them again to properly meet his mentor's. "So? Is it necessary?"

Mihawk seemed actually intrigued, contemplating with seriousness. He came around the piano to stand in front of his apprentice, laying a hand on Zoro's shoulder. Zoro tensed at the touch, but the sadness he just went through had left him weak, and he practically did nothing when Mihawk's hand traveled up, cupping the back of his head.

"I was there when Fire-Fist Ace sacrificed himself to save your captain's life," Mihawk's voice was almost a whisper. "He collapsed, right there, in the middle of a war. The Red Dog took the chance to deliver the fatal blow, and he'd be dead if not for his friends. That is the consequence of... love. To give up control of your emotions, to hand over your life to your enemy. And right now, right here, you're making the same mistake your captain has made. Your life is in my hands, and you didn't even _attempt_ to stop me."

"He'd be dead if not for his friends. In other words, he's alive because he has friends." Zoro defended for Luffy. "And me. He's alive because he has me." Boasting wasn't exactly his thing, but this was an argument, so he needed all the evidence he could get.

"What about youself? Who will save you from me if I decide to kill you now?" Mihawk pulled slightly at Zoro's hair. This stirred something within Zoro, something akin to delight or excitement, though in a form unfamiliar to him.

"I suppose... even enemies have different types?" he said hesitantly. "I won't die now and here, because it's you."

Mihawk huffed and withdrew his hand. "This conversation is getting too philosophical to my liking," mumbled the great swordsman.

"Yeah," agreed Zoro, turning to the piano again. "Never seen you play before."

"I learned a little in my youth. Recognized the tune you were trying to play." Mihawk slid his pale slender fingers across the board. "Music isn't bad, but perhaps a little too romantic for a swordsman."

Zoro laughed. "If you aren't romantic, I wouldn't have survived in East Blue."

Mihawk glared at him, a rare expression to appear on the stoic swordsman's face. And as if to avenge Zoro's words, Mihawk sat down on the bench and played the melody again. But Zoro's homesickness was soothed greatly by their little conversation, so he simply stood by the piano in silence and listened, watched, appreciated. The room was dim, with nothing but the moonlight spilling through the window, clothing Mihawk in a mantle of silver, his fingers glittering in the dark like pure white butterflies.

Only when Mihawk finished playing did Zoro realize that he was holding his breath, and that his heart was pounding loudly in his chest. Mihawk's eyes turned towards Zoro, as if he could hear the heavy thumps in his body, and Zoro suspected that he actually could. Mihawk approached him once again, invading his safety zone completely, drawing closer and closer. Zoro didn't stop him, this time because he was still dazed from the sight of Mihawk bathed in moonlight.

Mihawk stopped when there's only a fist's distance between their chests, leaning in just a little, his gaze sliding downwards to rest on Zoro's jaw, or arguably his mouth. Zoro swallowed, feeling that _something_ is coming, Mihawk was going to do _something_ to him that he's supposed to know the importance, but his head was too messy to figure out _what_.

But nothing happened. Mihawk frowned, seemingly regained his control, and stormed out of the room in a deadly silence. It almost looked like an escape, thought Zoro, if you ignore the fact that the greatest swordsman in the world have no need to ever do that. And there Zoro stood, confused, lost, disappointed, _unsatisfied_.

Just as Mihawk said. This is the consequence of...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Zoro is a virgin in my setting. Not completely ignorant like Luffy, but definitely, very inexperienced. After all, after Kuina died, sword is the only thing he thinks and cares about.  
> ...that, and defeating Mihawk.


	9. Luffy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Zoro's POV

**Luffy**

Fever struck him after he lost his eye. It wasn't really a heavy price to pay for what he had gained; he already mastered the Color of Observation, so the loss could be compensated, or even repaid in the future. If a blind old man can become the new Admiral, then Zoro really had nothing to complain about.

But the wound infested nonetheless, and the fever hit him hard. He and Mihawk and Perona had tended to the wound as neatly as possible, but they weren't experts after all, especially when it comes to handling such a severe injury. If Chopper had been the one to do it, he'd probably be ready for training in no time.

At a certain point delirium seized him, causing contorted images of the past to flash in front of his eyes. He was hungry and thirsty, and he saw Luffy's hands delivering the dusted rice balls to his mouth. Blood thumped in his ears like the sound of firing guns, and he saw Luffy's back with the red vest, shielding him from the shots with his own body. His face was drenched in sweat, like the sea water and the tears on his cheeks after suffering Mihawk's final blow, and he remembered the shame and the resolution as he delcared his promise to his captain, pointing Kuina's sword at the sky. His whole body hurt, sore and burning in all the places, and he recalled the pain he endured to save his captain's life on Thriller Bark. He could've died. He thought he was going to die. He was ready to die, at that moment deciding the place of ambition to be lower than that of loyalty and friendship in his heart.

"Nothing happened..." he whispered in his delirium. "Nothing happened... stupid cook..."

"Something has," Mihawk's cool voice sounded in his ears. "You have to fight it, Zoro. Surpass it."

"Luffy..." he choked. "I promised... I won't fail again... "

"Which is why you're here." He felt Mihawk's hand resting on his cheek, gentle and soothing despite the strength it contained. "This is a battle, Zoro, and you must not lose it. Your captain needs you alive."

The hand seemed to be soothing him indeed, for his breaths became calm and even, the furrow between his brows smoothed out. "Mihawk," he called, melancholy and longing.

The response came a lot slower. "...Yes," the soothing touches on his cheek turned into almost loving caresses, "Here I am. I'm waiting, for you."

Zoro fell asleep, and the next time he opened his eyes it was Perona at his side. His delirium had passed, but the fever hadn't broke just yet. He couldn't remember a thing about what he did or said during that time. He tried to get up, only to be settled back on bed by the girl.

"Give yourself a break! You just acquired that strength, and you're already unlucky enough to not have the chance to celebrate, dress yourself up in pretty clothes or decorate your bedroom with ribbons and baloons and stuff... all you think about is training! I just don't get you swordsmen sometimes... in fact, all the time."

"How long has it been?" he asked dizzily.

"You're sick for three days by now."

"No. How long has it been... since I got here?"

Perona tilted her head in boredness. "So hasty. Soon, seaweed head. You'll be heading back very soon."

Zoro closed his eyes. "My captain," he mumbled. "I miss him."

He heard a sigh from the girl as he started drifting off. "Me too. Miss _my_ captain, I mean."

Mihawk was with him again when he woke, and his fever was almost gone. His head was much clearer, and as he stared at Mihawk preparing new bandages, certain things he's never thought about before suddenly rose to the surface of his mind.

"Why did you leave the battlefield when Red-Hair showed up?" he asked. He wasn't sure why he asked that question. It just appeared out of nowhere, but it somehow became important to him, as if it was the key to certain knowledge he yearned for.

"My agreement with the marine was to fight Whitebeard," Mihawk replied. "Red-Hair wasn't on the list."

"But leaving like that just... doesn't seem like your style."

Mihawk wrapped the clean bandages around his eye. "Are you sure you know my style?"

"You didn't want to fight him," Zoro continued. "Why? What made you so unwilling?"

"Why should I answer your question?" Mihawk secured the bandages on his face.

Zoro shrugged, knowing it was no use pursuing. "Luffy once mentioned a pirate called Shanks that gave him the hat. That's Red-Hair's name, right? I'm not sure if he's really the same person... "

"He is," confirmed Mihawk.

"How would you know?"

"I know him. Red-Hair. Have known for... some time. Told me his story of meeting an interesting boy in East Blue."

Zoro blinked, and before he knew it a smile had crept up the corners of his mouth. "He's your friend."

Mihawk shot him a piercing glance. "We duelled many years ago."

"He's your _old_ friend," Zoro couldn't stop himself from sniggering. "Luffy's idol is your old friend. Wait... does it have anything to do with you not putting effort into killing Luffy back at Marineford?"

Mihawk just ignored him for a moment. Zoro supported himself up on the bed, looking at his mentor's back properly.

"Was it a good fight? With Red-Hair?"

He swore he could see Mihawk's expression lighting up in pleasant nostalgia when he turned to face him, though it was as fleeting and inconspicuous as any display of emotion on the great swordsman's face. "It was the best fight," declared Mihawk.

"Then why did you leave the battlefield? If it was such a good fight, don't you want to fight him again?"

"He lost his sword arm a decade ago," Mihawk said quietly.

"Pretty sure he's still a worthy opponent. That's why he's one of the emperors, after all."

"Losing a limb isn't like losing an eye, Roronoa. You can replace your sight with Color of Observation, but he cannot grow another hand with Color of Arms." Mihawk's turned away his gaze, frowning, and for a second Zoro thought he saw something akin to pain in his mentor's eyes. "If he still has his arm, he will certainly be stronger than he is now."

Zoro nodded in agreement. "So I was wrong," he said. "You do have your version of Luffy."

Mihawk seemed a little irritated. "We were rivals."

"You two were never at peace? Had a drink, held a party?"

Mihawk pursed his lips, and Zoro barely suppressed his laughter. He and Mihawk, Luffy and Shanks. He and Luffy, Mihawk and Shanks. Fate is truly more curious than he could ever imagine. Everything made sense after Mihawk's confession. The old rival with Haki like conflagration; the copy of Gryphon hanging on the wall, the way Mihawk had looked at the sword; the subtle opposition in his eyes whenever Zoro thought he was entirely alone. Turned out it was all about this one man, the hidden factor that had driven them closer all this long, without Zoro ever realizing it. Shanks was the vital piece to complete the symmetry, the last shard that fixed the mirror, allowing them to observe their own reflection, yet instead found each other in the glass. It was what made them... one.

They were more alike than they thought they were.

"Do you visit him often?" Zoro asked.

"Depends on how you define 'often.'"

"Perhaps we'll meet again when Luffy gets to see Red-Hair," he quipped. "Bump into the greatest swordsman in the world in accident during a beach barbecue, or a jungle picnic."

Mihawk huffed, "Unlikely."

"Did he ever invite you to become his crewmate?"

"You've asked too many questions today." Mihawk handed him a glass of water. "Drink this and get some sleep. Your fever should break next morning."

Zoro moistened his dry throat with the water, and Mihawk practically handled him to lie back in bed. He was tired indeed; his body was still weak, his spirit freshly recovered from delirium. The talking and the laughter were enough to exhaust him. He shut his eye briefly when Mihawk turned off the lamp, relaxed and happy.

But Mihawk lingered at his side, the bed dipping from the weight of another man, and Zoro could sense the struggle boiling within those hawk eyes. He could feel the heat radiating from the strong thigh beside his arm, wrapped in dark trousers, silently inviting. Zoro's heart fluttered, but he clenched his fist, hesitant to touch his mentor, the man he had admired and sought for his entire life. There was a strong and dark urge to keep Mihawk there, to drag him down from the frozen height and burn in the fires with him. What hardships had Luffy endured as he searched endlessly for Shanks, and what hardships still lie ahead? And what cause did Zoro have to let Mihawk go so easily, when the great swordsman was right there at his side, within his reach?

"I wish Luffy could see his Shanks again," he said with a smile. "What a scene would that be."

"And I wish he could reunite with the boy," said Mihawk, earnestly. "He has waited for many years."

"I feel bad," Zoro confessed. "That Luffy has to wait longer, while I could stay with you for so long."

Mihawk narrowed his eyes, leaning down to bring their faces closer, his hands supporting on the bed, caging the young swordsman in. His mentor seemed angered for some reason, but instead of fearing his rage, Zoro found himself attracted to the blush of exasperation on Mihawk's cheekbones.

"Then I suppose Red-Hair should feel bad for me," Mihawk said darkly. "Because _he_ left your captain at his own will, while _you_ will be the one to leave _me_."

Zoro swallowed, unable to stop his eyes from sweeping up and down his mentor's chest and abdomen, barely covered by that loose shirt. How he wished to mark that paleness, rake his fingers and sink his teeth into it, or watch the blade of Wado Ichimonji drawing forth drops of blood...

His fingers had touched Mihawk's thigh before he realized it, the warmth almost burning him, even though he was the one with fever. Mihawk's eyelashes quivered, but he didn't stop his stolen touches, only reaching up to gently close Zoro's eyes - eye.

"I'm sorry," Zoro said with his eye shut, withdrawing his hand. "I don't know what I'm doing."

"Perhaps it's best you remain so. Sleep, rest, recover," Mihawk touched his brows and massaged his scalp, soothing his naive student's conflicted emotions. "Roronoa Zoro."

A sigh escaped his mouth as Zoro leaned into the touch unconsciously, savoring this dream-like intimacy. "You're one of the most amazing things I've ever met in my life," he murmured in his sleepiness.

Mihawk went silent for a while, and when he spoke again his voice was accompanied with little trembling breaths. "I'm your teacher, your enemy, not a rare beast. Besides, your life hasn't lasted for a very long time yet."

"I'm just saying you're amazing."

He felt Mihawk's slender fingers prying beneath the cover, tracing that scar he left on his chest the day they first met. "You bear my mark and I'm unscathed," Mihawk's voice dropped to a whisper. "Nevertheless, you brand yourself into me and my future."

Zoro took hold of Mihawk's hand, bringing it to his cheek. "Thank you," he said with his lips pressed to those fingers, falling into the arms of morpheus, unaware of what his action sparked in the man at his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm being vague in this chapter about what Zoro got with the price of an eye, since it hasn't been revealed and I personally don't want to make speculations. Anyway, enjoy!


	10. Mihawk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mihawk's POV

**Mihawk**

It's almost like a cycle, an ouroboros, thought Mihawk, for everything to start with rehabilitation, and end with rehabilitation.

A dull thump came from behind him, and Mihawk turned to see Zoro massaging his forehead, hissing at the doorframe. They hadn't stepped out of the bedroom yet, and Zoro was already bumping into things. The golden earrings produced silvery sounds as Zoro shook off the dizziness, attracting Mihawk's attention for a split second. He had always thought those earrings suited Zoro too much, and perhaps a little bit too... sensual.

"Need a hand?"

"What are you talking about?"

Mihawk kinda wanted to give him a hand, not to help him with the rehabilitation, but simply to have the chance to touch him. But if Zoro denied it, he would respect his wish.

He led with steady strides, and his apprentice wobbly followed, as they would continue doing until Zoro caught up.

It was summer, as hot and damp as the summer two years ago; and it was a fine day with the sun shining through the heavy fog like a dream. In the distance, the humandrills ceased their endless fighting and climbed on top of the trees to enjoy the warm rays, and Mihawk and Zoro stood at the gate of the castle, breathing in the fresh air after a whole week in the sickroom.

"How long?" asked Zoro.

Mihawk knew what he was talking about. "Two weeks, and you must be on your way."

"Two weeks, huh?" Zoro stretched himself a little, squinting at the sun. "Can't believe this is almost over."

"Do you feel like you're worthy to go back to your captain now?"

Zoro gave him a wide grin, "Oh, I'll be worthy until I beat you. But that's not related to going back to Luffy. I'm going back because that's his promise, to meet at the same place two years later."

"Do you feel you're ready, then?"

"You're the teacher, you do the assessment."

Mihawk started walking down the stairs, and Zoro trailed behind him, careful with every step. "Arriving in the New World is the same as stepping into the Emperors' territories. You probably won't fight Red-Hair; Blackbeard is your captain's nemesis, considering what he did; the remaining two have too much trouble in their heads to not stir up more trouble with you trouble-making lot. If we assume that you'll make enemies of three of the Emperors sooner or later - which I consider as a reasonable assumption - then the assessment will be an absolute 'fail.' Your improvement in swordsmanship still does not match with your crew's unbelievable talent of throwing yourselves into messes."

"Damn," Zoro grumbled, "I wanna be pissed, but you're too damn right."

"Nevertheless, you've done your best. It's only two years, after all. You may not be able to defeat your potential enemies yet, but you certainly can cause them a ton of trouble. Suits your crew pretty well."

"Well," Zoro shrugged and smiled, "I guess that counts as a good start."

They had arrived at the beach as they chatted, boots slightly sinking into the soft sand with every step. The dark clouds were gathering again, and the fog was returning as the sunlight grew dim. Over the seven years Mihawk had lived on this island, he had only watched one ship came and went on this spot, and that was Shanks' Red Force. Others came to this island to challenge him, but even if Mihawk let some of them go, they had to see themselves out. Only Red-Hair had the privilege of having Mihawk's greeting and farewell. Soon, the privilege would be extended to another.

"How far did you go?" asked Zoro, gazing into the horizon, "In Grand Line? Do you have any idea what One Piece is?"

"I once travel with Red-Hair all the way to Lodestar. It is the last island a Log Pose can point to in the New World, and only Roger had managed to find the next and final island, where he supposedly left his treasure. Red-Hair decided to not go any further, so neither did I. As for One Piece, I'm afraid I know no more than you do. It hasn't been my main concern."

"Nevermind. Luffy would want to discover it by himself anyway."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Actually... I'm thinking about the location of, you know, the final showdown." Zoro finally caught up with him, his shoulder grazing briefly at Mihawk's bicep. "I wonder which island is the best place for us to do it? I thought about doing it on the... the Roger island, forgot its name, but I guess it's a bit inappropriate, and Luffy would probably want that island intact. Who knows, it just doesn't sound like a good idea. But you mentioned there's an island before the One Piece... Lodestar, isn't it? We could probably do it there! Doesn't affect the One Piece, and it's a meaningful place."

"Never thought you even care about locations," Mihawk laughed.

"Of course I do," Zoro looked up at him in earnest. "It is you, not anyone else."

Mihawk couldn't remember how many times he had felt that gaze over these two years. Zoro had always like to stare at him, with such intensity in those young eyes, unmoving and obsessed, as if something about Mihawk enchanted him and made him forget about everything else. Mihawk remembered the time they picnicked in the woods, they way Zoro's eyes on him had such fire they could melt the snow around the spot where Mihawk was sitting; the night he watched Mihawk played the music, with such heavy admiration; and the last look he gave him in sickbed before he fell asleep... no word could ever describe that one hazy look, except that it made Mihawk unable to still his heart or calm his mind for days. And besides all this, Zoro's eyes were always fixed on him in battles, as sharp as a blade through the heart. That gaze had started as nothing but boyish admiration, but now, for Mihawk, it had turned almost physical.

He had grown accustomed to that gaze, to being stirred by that gaze. And he could bear it no longer.

Mihawk took Zoro's face between his palms, trapping his skull under strong fingers. It wasn't a quick motion, so the most part of Zoro's sluggishness came from his head going blank at Mihawk's move; but neither was it very tender, so Zoro grabbed his wrists after waking from the initial shock. The strength they both applied was bordering on a fight, but passion had always been a little violent for them.

"You should be more careful with your words," Mihawk's voice dropped to a resonating whisper, "and the way you stare like a fool."

"I mean what I say," Zoro replied, smiling defiantly though his cheeks were already flushed, his grip tightening around Mihawk's wrists, "and you _allowed_ me to stare."

"You know you don't know what you're doing, right?" Two years were enough for Mihawk to realize how inexperienced Zoro was. "What if you're doing it wrong?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but I suppose I'm supposed to be doing it wrong. I'm a pirate, that's part of the job."

Mihawk sighed, "That's not what it is."

He released Zoro bit by bit, and Zoro hesitantly loosened his fingers. He looked down at the pinkish finger marks around Mihawk's wrists, the defiant smile slowly replaced by genuie curiosity and the pure desire of a virgin. "Will you teach me then?" he asked, with no trace of provocation in his voice, "How to do it right? Whatever it is you're talking about?"

Mihawk glanced at the sky. It's still in the middle of the day. "Let's... not talk about this right now."

"Then when? It's not like there's much time left."

A sting in the chest. "It's enough." Enough to learn, certainly. But was it enough to get enough? "For now, you should focus on how to fight without tripping over stones or bumping into trees."

"Don't change the topic. At least give me some kind of preview."

He should've known how persistant he was. But the invitation was too tempting for Mihawk to refuse.

Taking a step forward, Mihawk closed the short distance between them completely. One hand came to rest tenderly on the young man's shoulder, the other went sliding into emerald hair, slightly dragging to tip Zoro's head upwards. Any trace of curiosity or challenge on Zoro's face immediately disappeared, replaced by the shock of realization and the helplessness of a fledgling, as Mihawk brought their lips together in a slow but determined motion.

Mihawk closed his apprentice's widened eye with a gentle brush of thumb. He tilted his head, switching to a better angle, and licked patiently at the insides of Zoro's mouth. The young man's jaw was still slack from the initial shock, allowing Mihawk free access to his teeth and tongue, exploring at his own pace and will. Zoro was stiff at first, arms hovering in the air uselessly, having no idea what to do with them. Mihawk grabbed one of his hands and placed it on his own waist, and that was when Zoro started to relax, and perhaps getting what the hell was happening. His other arm circled around Mihawk's shoulder, pushing him down and pulling himself up, leaning into the kiss as much as he could. His response to Mihawk's tongue was clumsy, with teeth occassionally crashing with his, but Mihawk cupped his cheeks and took over the control once more, leading him back to the original lazy rhythm.

By the time they broke apart, Mihawk could sense Zoro's heart beating with the frequency of a forest rabbit stomping on the ground. Zoro clung to him even when the it was over, panting into Mihawk's nape from the suffocation and excitement. Mihawk soothed him with gentle strokes along his spine, smiling secretly as he thought about how adorable this was.

"Well?" he asked, "Does it feel like what you're expecting?"

"Yeah... definitely," Zoro said with muffled voice, unable to lift his head because of the shame, but Mihawk could feel his face burning against his chest. He laughed softly, playing with the golden earrings with a finger, delighted to see the lobe turning even redder.

"Still, training comes first."

"I... I feel dizzy..."

"Already too much, Roronoa?"

Zoro shuddered in a flush of anger, lifting his head while trying his best to ignore the deep blush on his face. "Not... not even close!"

"Good," if anything, Mihawk's smirk got wider. "Because, as you said, that was just a preview."

He wondered if the young man would start steaming if he teased him a bit more. Inexperienced as he was, Zoro clearly wasn't that ignorant about what would happen next. "Shut up," he muttered, "training first."

It was such a sight that Mihawk tipped down his head and kissed him again, this time lighter, briefer. Zoro blinked at him after he withdrew, "What's that for?"

Apparently, spending two years together allowed both sides to know more about the other. Just like Mihawk knew what he wanted to say without him saying, Zoro could sense the difference between this kiss and the last. If the last one was the "preview," then this one happened only because Mihawk couldn't help himself. It was too loving, too casual, as if they had been together for a long time.

... Well, they _had_ been together for a long time.

"You have a lot to learn," Mihawk touched his hair, perhaps a little too gently. "Now, training. Better start before we spend the whole day just talking about it."

Zoro fought as clumsily as he kissed. Though his Observation Haki was in fact more than enough to help him make out his surroundings, he kept doing the exact things Mihawk had warned him about this entire day: tripping over and bumping into all sorts of things. It wasn't that easy to get used to not having something so important as an eye. For a moment, it seemed that everything had returned to the state which they started from, the master and the newly taken student, struggling at their first lesson. Zoro's staggering annoyed Mihawk and pleased him and again annoyed him in a strange way; first of all, it disrupted the elegance and fluency of their duel, but on the other hand, Zoro was still here with him because of it, yet the day it completely disappears is the day Zoro must be ready to leave.

"By the way," Zoro wiped the blood from his forehead where he bumped into a rock, readying his sword again as he stumbled up, "Why did you kiss me?"

"Really?" Mihawk didn't even know what to think about it.

"I mean... I thought only... lovers do that," they circled each other in the ruins, observing for one little gap to attack.

"Is that what you think?" Mihawk teased. So his apprentice was a virgin not only in the flesh, but also in the heart, huh? "Well, if you ask me that question, then you must think we aren't... lovers. What do you consider us to be then?"

Zoro took a quick step forward and gave a heavy thrust of his sword, and Mihawk blocked it with a lazy swing. "The usual stuff... I guess you don't need to hear it. But aside from those, I... I can't really say. I don't know what it is."

"Then what was that you told me in bed that night? About how _amazing_ I am?" He didn't expect Zoro to fully get the flirting, but it was enough for the young man to start blushing again. "Or do you not remember what you've said?"

"I remember. And I told you, I mean what I say."

Mihawk parried his sword and kicked him in the ankles, causing Zoro to fall backwards. Then he shot an arm around Zoro's waist, leaning down for another kiss. Zoro gave a little cry of panick at first, but quickly circled his arms around Mihawk's neck. They embraced with sword in hand, limbs entwining like vines with deadly thorns.

"That one was too poetic. Too vague." He pressed a last light kiss on those lips as he withdrew. "I like you. You think you can say that to me?"

" _Like_ you? Hell no," Zoro laughed, much to Mihawk's surprise. "That sounds way too shallow."

"Is it? There might be trouble if it gets deeper." The rivalry, the duel, the death and the life.

"Who cares?" was Zoro's answer, and this time it was he that initiated the kiss.

And Mihawk stopped caring as well. He shoved Zoro against the wall, thrusting his tongue inside that mouth, tasting sake and blood and steel. Zoro laughed and moaned into his kiss, and even wrapped a leg on his hip out of instinct. A shudder jolted up his spine when Mihawk felt it, heat gathering in his veins.

The dark clouds rumbled above them, and within a second raindrops started falling like iron beads smashing on their skin. They looked at the sky, then smiled at each other as if laughing at their foolishness, and quickly gathered their swords and ran towards the castle gate.

Zoro immediately threw himself at him when they stepped inside the door. Mihawk slammed it shut with a kick, responding to the kiss and pawing at Zoro's muscled back. That white shirt was thoroughly drenched, so Mihawk pried a hand inside the fabric to feel the young man's heated skin, making a fascinating contrast with the coolness of rainwater. Zoro's hissed as his palm slid across his abdomen, pulling away abruptly as if a bolt of electricity suddenly went through him.

But it was too late; Mihawk had already felt the hardness between his legs. A chuckle rolled in his throat, and Zoro looked as if he could bury himself into the ground right there. "It's alright," Mihawk whispered, pressing himself fully onto the young man, allowing him to feel his lust as well. They sighed against each other, shivering at the cold of the water and the heat of their skin.

"Last chance. Do you really want this?" Mihawk asked softly by his ear.

"I don't want this," Zoro grumbled, "I fucking _need_ this."

"Very well," Mihawk nearly growled in reply, "You asked for this."

It was the first time Zoro saw Mihawk's chamber. They left their swords beside the door, awaiting their master in the shadows, leaning against each other. Mihawk led him to the bed, and started to undo his clothes with clever fingers, removing his haramaki and pulling his shirt over his head, while secretly admiring the muscles on Zoro's arms. Zoro mimicked his movements, stripping Mihawk's coat, watching closely as the dark and red velvet slid from broad shoulders like spilling wine. The room was large and dark and quiet, with no other sound beside their heavy breathing, which only got heavier as they started pawing at each other's belts and trousers.

"I've never done this with a man," confessed Mihawk, reaching a bit hesitantly towards the searing heat beneath.

Zoro let out a short chuckle, "I've never done this with anyone."

They tipped their heads for another kiss as they stepped out of their clothing, fully naked, as if to offer some comfort for the nervousness. Before Zoro could react, Mihawk seized his waist and threw him on bed, settling above him as he trapped his young lover inside long limbs.

"Fuck," Zoro cursed gently as Mihawk bore his weight down on him, cock pressing hard and hot against his thigh, "How long have you been planning this?"

Mihawk pinched his chin between two fingers. "That should be a question asked by me. You've been quite persistant with all that staring, haven't you? How long have you been fantasizing about this?"

"Ah, so my staring turned you on. Is that why you always told me not to do that?"

He kissed away the smirk, and trailed down to explore other places. Zoro stiffened as he nibbled at his throat, lips caressing the collarbones, slowly tracing the scar that stretched from shoulder to hip. The shapes of the stitches were still visible even after three years, and Mihawk nuzzled his teeth and tongue over every small hump, causing the young man to pant and shiver beneath him.

Mihawk sat up and bent Zoro's legs, trailing kiss down the thighs and nudging his knees open. He could sense the intense stare on him disappearing as Zoro closed his eye shut and threw his head backwards, shameful and excited from being observed and touched at such intimate places. Mihawk couldn't help but smile in mockery; finally, his apprentice had some sense of what it was like to be stared at in such a way. Not to mention he had suffered it for two years.

Zoro had changed a great deal since he first arrived at this island. His limbs and torso had stretched and filled out, transformed from the bulky teenager to a strong man, lean and shaped perfectly like an inverted triangle, in all his young and masculine beauty. To some extent, he had grown more and more like his mentor; Mihawk wondered if this association was a little narcissistic, but they were equivalent in existence in many ways, so he assumed it was fine to find joy in their resemblance.

He took his time feeling his young lover's body with his lips, from the callused palm tasting like steel and sweat and leather, to the broadened shoulders luring him to bite, to the lobe with golden earrings that had enticed him for quite some time. Zoro trembled and gasped as Mihawk explored him, his hands sliding impatiently up and down Mihawk's thighs, "What's taking you so long?"

"You," Mihawk planted a light kiss to his sweating brow, reached a hand towards the drawer at his bedside and grabbed the vial of oil, "Seems like you do have a sense of what's the major part, don't you?"

"Of... of course I do! I'm not an idiot, damn you."

"Aren't you? You think you know, but do you?"

With that, Mihawk thrusted an oil-coated fingers into him, causing the young man to stiffen completely. Zoro's dark eyes cleared in an instant, looking at Mihawk in thorough shock and unexpectedness. Mihawk slowly withdrew and slammed back in, drawing a surprised and not so very dignified high-pitched gasp from his throat.

"Are you sure... ah... that's... how it works? Oh god... "

"Very sure," Mihawk caught his lips in a brief kiss, another hand closing around his cock to give him long and languid strokes. "Relax. Dose it hurt?"

"A little... but..."

"Is it good?"

"Yes," Zoro breathed, thrusting his hips slightly to meet with the finger inside him, while he took hold of Mihawk's cock and mimicked the stroking with a shivering hand, forcing Mihawk to part his lips and gasp back. "Keep going. More... I want more."

"As you wish," Mihawk whispered added another finger, enjoying the deep hum of pain and pleasure resonating in Zoro's throat. The hand that clumsily stroked his cock came to clutch on to his back, nails digging into his skin. A bit disappointed, but the sting on his back was another form of pleasure. Zoro watched him with a half-lidded eye, barely focused on his face, breathing in and out along with his thrusting. At a certain point Mihawk's fingertips brushed across a spot, and all of a sudden Zoro's whole body clenched down, head thrown back with an enticing groan that was stopped half-way when Zoro put a hand on his mouth.

"No..."

"Yes," Mihawk removed his hand from his mouth, "I will hear you. You will scream to me, Roronoa, and I will hear all of it."

Mihawk added one more finger, massaging that spot with deeper and harder thrusts, preparing and stretching him as thorougly as he could. When Zoro had became a writhing mess beneath him, Mihawk slicked his own cock and supported himself up, intruding the private delta between the young man's legs, aligning with the entrance.

"Warm up's over," he said darkly into Zoro's ear, lips rubbing with the earrings, "Now the real thing begins."

He wasted no time thrusting in, burying himself to the hilt with a clean, unhindered motion, as a swordsman would do to his archenemy with his sword in the heat of battle. Zoro sucked in a sharp breath, but made no sound, as if the intrusion took his voice away and left him mute; his whole body arched like a stretching bow as they were fully joined, his insides so tight that Mihawk thought he would come just from the pressure and the hurt. He's pretty sure his back was bleeding from Zoro's nails.

"Oh... oh god... god that hurts..." Zoro finally spoke after what seemed like a millenia, "God damn it, Hawk-Eyes, every time... fuck, this brings back memories..."

"Of this?" Mihawk traced the scar on his chest, laughing breathlessly.

"Obviously," Zoro breathed in and out, adjusting himself to ease the pain. He struggled to open his eye, but once he did there was that familiar stare again, instead this time it was a thousand times more fervent and greedy and full of lust. Mihawk couldn't know what he saw, but Zoro's hands followed the stare to roam his body, applying strength to his skin that caused such sweet pain, exploring the paleness of his shoulders, his chest, his abdomen, his legs, his backside. It was only some touches, and Zoro was the one beneath, but Mihawk felt like he was one being taken and violated and raped. He trembled violently, unable to control himself, and seized Zoro's wrists to plant them beside his head.

"So greedy. You want me, little pirate?" He hissed.

"Yes, all of you, great swordsman," Zoro bit his chin in defiance, teeth grazing at the bones of his jaw. "Give it to me, now."

Mihawk wasn't sure if he was punishing or obliging, because oddly enough, fucking Zoro felt like plundering him and offering himself to him at the same time. He started with a slow and steady rhythm, withdrawing almost completely and slamming back, building the tension and the pace patiently; after all, he was no longer a youth, and lust to him was a tamed beast. His young lover, however, was immediately overwhelmed, because every one of Mihawk's thrusts aimed precisely at his weekest spot, causing him to jerk and gasp and close his eye tightly shut.

"You will come on my cock," Mihawk pressed their torsos together, trapping Zoro's leaking cock in between, "And you will come only when I allow you to."

It was a bit cruel of him to ask this of a virgin, but the sight of the young swordsman surrendering so sweetly drew out the sadistic side of him. "Yes," Zoro murmured, and he threw his head back with a pained and pleasured moan when another well-aimed thrust hit him in the right place, baring the column of his neck for biting, and of course, Mihawk had his fill, whispering soothing and encouraging words against scarred skin.

Their sex was not unlike their usual duels over these two years; Zoro at first would be overwhelmed, but Mihawk would guide him with utter patience, and at last they would end up indulging in fights that were like the preludes of their final duel in the future. When the pain receded and the joy became promising, Zoro started to move his hips to meet with Mihawk's every thrust, legs wrapping hesitantly around his hips with his virginal fervor, the sounds he made becoming musical to the ear. The sight of Zoro enjoying it turned Mihawk further on, and he sped up his movements as he growled deeply, tearing a high-pitched moan from the young man's throat.

Zoro's brows furrowed when their love-making grew more intense, an expression between pain and pleasure, with tears streaming down his cheeks. "Are you hurt?" Mihawk whispered. He couldn't read it on Zoro's face.

"No," Zoro whispered back, his voice broken, "Don't stop, don't stop."

The rest of it was blurred in his mind; all he could recall was their endless entwining, their fragmented gasps and moans, and the way Zoro resonated Mihawk's name both weakly and fervently as he came, the same tone he used when he called to Mihawk in sickbed, suffering from delirium, with so much longing.

"Say it again," Mihawk stilled his movements with sheer will, even if he was still on the edge. "Say my name."

"Mihawk... god I... I..." Zoro seemed to have failed to word his thoughts, so he just pulled Mihawk down for a passionate kiss. "This is better than I've ever imagined."

"What have you imagined?" Mihawk questioned, suddenly burning with jealousy, "With whom?"

"... With you, of course," Zoro smiled weakly, still exhausted and spent from the orgasm. "Who else? I've already met the greatest, it's not like I could force myself to aim lower anymore."

Mihawk was so enamored by those words that he had to have Zoro all over again before he finally found release inside him. The world went white when that moment came, and Mihawk rested his forehead against Zoro's as he rode out his orgasm. Zoro held him close, wrists still bruised from Mihawk's gripping, but he trapped him in his embrace nonetheless. It was a sweet and almost loving descend from the climax, including the later lazy entangling and settling down beside each other in bed, catching their breaths.

He lay drifted for what felt like a few minutes, and was woken by the coolness of metal earrings pressing against his cheek. He could feel Zoro hovering above him, exploring his body hesitantly. "May I?" Zoro asked in a whisper, "Let me repay you."

Mihawk's competitiveness told him to refuse, to not allow his apprentice to get the prize without a fight, a fight which he could not yet win. But when callused fingers grazed his inner thigh, he sucked in a small breath and opened his eyes, resting a hand in Zoro's hair. A soundless permission.

Zoro basically imitated the whole process, but the young man nowhere near Mihawk's patience. Nevertheless, it was better than he'd ever imagined, to borrow his young lover's statement. There was no word he could think of to describe how much he loved the feeling of being so ardently penetrated - by no other than this person - the mixed shame and pain and ectasy of violent subjugation. Even Zoro's impatience became a spice instead of inexperience, adding a youthful and passionate flavor to the love-making, and most of all, it simply felt like Zoro. He wondered if this was how good their final duel would be, the moment Wado Ichimonji thrust throught his heart.

When at last they were done, Mihawk could hardly remember how many times they had taken and offered themselves to each other. His throat burned from screaming, and every muscle had a dull ache pulsing in the flesh. He left for the bathroom when Zoro drifted off; when he saw himself in the mirror, all the fingerprints and claw marks and biting marks of red and green and purple and bleeding, scattered all over his body, he nearly got excited once again.

"Zoro," he gently shook the sleeping young man, "go wash yourself."

Zoro struggled to wake from the exhaustion, and walked towards the bathroom with unsteady legs while Mihawk retreated back to bed. When he returned, Mihawk stopped him from reaching for his clothes on the floor, "What do you think you're doing? Come here."

Zoro blinked, eye switching between Mihawk and the door. "Come here," Mihawk told him again.

He obeyed, crawling into Mihawk's inviting arms, head resting on his shoulder. Two years of healthy life had made the young man soft-skinned and flexible, a treat to the senses in every perspective. But again, most importantly, it was him, Roronoa Zoro. Mihawk smiled into his hair in satisfaction; at this moment, the night was truly complete.

"So? Any thoughts?"

Zoro failed to say anything in a few seconds, as if the whole experience had stricken him dumb. After some really hard thinking, he finally found his voice, "I literally thought I was gonna die on you."

Mihawk buried his face into emerald hair. That... was a bit too straightforward (and adorable) even for a man of his age. "You know, that sounds like the typical line in pornography."

"Wha... no, I don't read or watch those crap!" Zoro lifted his head in protest, but suddenly smirked, "And you've read a lot of them, haven't you? No wonder you're such a perve..."

"Watch your tongue now, young man."

"You did just fuck your student, you know."

"And you love it, so much that you have to repay me like a kid sharing his favorite sweets."

Zoro sulked a bit in his nape, and said, "I never thought I'd be like that stupid cook one day. Always thought the... carnal things are meaningless."

"You practice celibacy or something?"

"Half-consciously, I guess. For most part I'm just not interested, but I think I _was_ avoiding it on purpose. I know it's something that would damage the concentration and stuff. It's discipline, part of the practice. You do this too, don't you?"

He was right. Mihawk had had lovers before, but most of the time he lived the life of a monk, dedicating himself to the sword. Sex to him was only an extra part of life, enjoyable occasionally but in no way neccesary. To swordsmen like them, any distraction is a possible hindrance on their road.

"But I couldn't think about any of those stuff when I'm with you," Zoro continued, "It's like... it's thrown out of my head. All I could think of is how good you feel, and I'll go as many rounds as you want."

"And I want you as many times as I can take," Mihawk nuzzled his smile into his young lover's cheek, a little dazed from the words.

They laughed and kissed and exchanged dirty quips, while the weariness slowly took hold of their body. They settled back on their respective pillows when they were ready to sleep, still not used to staying entwined; but their eyes kept fixed on each other untill they finally fell asleep.

Mihawk reached for Zoro and took his hand, brought it to his lips to press a light but devoted kiss.

"My pleasure," he whispered to the sleeping young man, as if responding to the gratefulness he received that night by the sickbed.

The sun shined into the chamber next morning, much to Mihawk's joy; he would be very depressed if the weather on Gloom Island continued its usual stubborness after such a night. But soon he found something more depressing: Zoro was not at his side, and he could hear the sound of him already training in the yard. Mihawk lay back in bed and sighed in annoyance, covering his face with a hand. Unromantic, stupid little prick.

He got out of bed, washed and trimmed and dressed and went down the stairs. Breakfast was ready and Perona was still at the table, so he simply joined her in the opposite seat.

"Morning," she said quietly, fixing her eyes on her food.

"Morning," he replied, not commenting on her unusual silence. She was always talkative at the table.

"He's at it already," Perona pointed her fork towards the door, "Ate like a whale and just barged out. He looks like one of those baboons in heat."

"Overenergetic?"

"Rapturous," she chewed on her egg, looking outside the window and murmured to herself, "Is he happy because he's finally an adult now?"

Mihawk paused at the words, "So you know what happened?"

Perona cast him a quick glance and blushed to the point of steaming, "Of... of course! My ghosts got ears, and so do I! And... you do notice your shirt is half-translucent, right?"

... Actually, he did not. Perhaps he's too happy from last night's experience as well.

"If you know, then why're you making a fuss about it?"

"Making a... my housemates just slept with no foreshadowing, and I don't even have the right to feel awkward?"

"No foreshadowing?" That statement was... unexpected.

"Well... I guess it makes perfect sense in your swordsmen logic, but I must say that I do not see this coming at all. Yes, you've grown close and all that, I know, but no dates, no gifts and no lovers' prattle... at least not in my knowledge. Unless you two've been hanging out while I'm asleep, which I guess you didn't."

"You mean you haven't seen us do what you think lovers do?"

"Exactly," Perona swallowed her mouthful of pancake.

"So what do you think lovers do?"

"Presents, the usual stuff. Cute stuff. Teddy bears, pretty clothes..."

"Are those what you give to yours?"

"Wha... no, I..." Perona glared at him, but stammered while giving her reply, "I... I don't..."

"You don't have one?" Mihawk chuckled, "No kidnapping pretty young men who fell into your captain's trap? I suppose Moria truly was bad at pirating, and at teaching his underlings how to be a pirate."

"That's not Lord Moria's fault! Absalom should take the blame; he made it look really disgusting. Besides, I'm not interested anyway, I've got Kumashi." Perona took a sip of her honeyed milk, looking very proud of herself. "What girl cares about men if she's got numberless teddy bears?"

... Well, one cannot expect Moria's loyal subordinate to be mentally normal. Nevertheless, her words did give Mihawk some inspiration. Pretty clothes, huh?

"So, what's your plan?" Perona asked, "How will you make him stay?"

"Stay? Have you misunderstood something? He must be on his way in two weeks, to go back to his crew."

"But you like him, right? How can you just let something you like leave you?"

"I do not like him as like you like your zombies or your teddy bears. I will let him leave, it was our deal."

Perona frowned, "But how is that liking someone? What's the point if you're not being together anyway? That doesn't make any sense."

"You've never liked anyone, haven't you? Only things," Mihawk said without mockery, "Learn this, little girl; there's something in this world called respect, which means considering the wishes of others. It is exactly what we should have the most for the ones we care for. He wants to leave, then I respect his wish."

She still looked confused, and perhaps a little sad, but she said nothing.

"Besides," Mihawk added, "What I truly want is not the him right now. I will wait, for the day he becomes my equal. Then I will claim him."

"How?"

"He will not fail me. My blood will be on his sword, his title, his name. He will be mine, and I his."

"Gosh, stop being so creepy. But that's damn romantic, I'll give you that."

Mihawk laughed softly, exchanging an easy moment with the girl. "Will you send him to Sabaody?" he asked, "It would be inappropriate if I'm seen in the public with him."

"Yeah, okay..." she nodded. "Can I... still come back?"

Mihawk turned to the newspaper, "Whatever you wish."

Fortunately, the thing he wanted arrived only a few days later. It was one of the privileges he enjoyed as a Warlord, to have priority in shipping when he ordered something from any store, even if he lived on an obsolete island full of warring baboons.

The next morning he received the package, he waited until Zoro had washed himself to present it to him (they sleep together of course). "Come here," he gestured to the young man freshly emerged from the bathroom, "I have a gift for you."

He opened the box on his desk, and within it was a robe of dark green, paired with a red silky sash. Mihawk wondered what kind of gossip would start going around; the fact that he ordered clothes not his own size could no doubt give rise of many interpretations. Would anyone make the most ridiculous guess and accidentally get it right?

The robe fit with Zoro perfectly. The shape of the shoulders were elegantly drawn by the fabric, the length just enough to cover his knees and expose the slender calves, and the sash was sturdy enough to hold his swords.

"Do you like it?" Mihawk said against his earlobe.

"Yes," Zoro turned around to face him, "Just _have to_ leave me a souvenir, huh?"

"Rash young men like you forget too easily," Mihawk traced the shape of that scar, for the who-knows-how-many time, "Never can be too cautious. You almost forgot it even with _this_ to remind you."

"I didn't, and I doubt if I ever will, with or without your little gift," he pulled Mihawk down into a kiss, "But thanks anyway."

When Zoro first appeared in this outfit in the hall, Perona immediately understood what happened. "Hmmm," she nodded approvingly at the robe, and turned to give Mihawk a genuine smile, "You _can_ be cute after all."

The last of their days together peacefully passed. At day they traveled to all the places they've been on this island, sparred in the ruins, while at night they shared weird but happy conversations with Perona at the dinner table (trying to make peace with their respective strange views on sex/emotional life), and made love in Mihawk's chamber. They did it so frequently as if addicted to carnal desires, contradicting their usual way of life, but it felt right to Mihawk if it was Zoro, and it felt right to Zoro if it was Mihawk.

Neither of them were sentimental enough to make a fuss about the parting. Zoro had everything packed up days ahead, so all they had to do was get ready the boat. They stood side by side on the beach, Zoro's earrings making clear musical sounds in the wind. His eye was determined and calm, his form stronger and taller than he was two years ago, a young and ambitious pirate and swordsman ready to set sail once more.

"So," Zoro grinned, "Any words you want me to carry to your old friend Red-Hair?"

"Don't bother yourself with it," Mihawk huffed, "I'll tell him myself."

"Finally getting out of the lair?" Zoro threw himself at him one last time, locking him in a tight embrace, "What do you plan to tell him?"

Mihawk whispered to his ear, and Zoro bursted out laughing and kissed him full on the lips.

"I love you," he told him with pride, "I love you so much."

Perhaps this was what they do to hide the sadness of parting, or perhaps this was what pirates are. To know, to love, and to advance with the memory branded in heart. Mihawk stood there watching, until the boat couldn't been seen even with his hawk eyes.

"Now," he smiled to himself, walking back to his castle, planning a trip to the New World in mind. The World Government wouldn't like it, but government be damned, he's a pirate. "Prepare for some real boasting from the most unexpected person, Red-Hair. I'm going to tell you the experience you never had."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last line is inspired by Lestat's famous line in Interview with the Vampire: I'm going to give you the choice I never had.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments are always welcomed.


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